


the wish my heart makes (is that you're real)

by FateChica



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hand-wavey Magic, Teenage Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateChica/pseuds/FateChica
Summary: But then Mike sees something new, something he’s never encountered in these woods before.It’s a circle of trees, just off to his left. The way the sunlight shines down on the clearing in the center is what catches his eye, making the air look all soft and hazy under the glow. The ground in the clearing is blanketed by lush grasses and tiny patches of flowers.And, in the middle of all of this, is a girl....-When Mike is 11, he meets a girl in the woods....Or does he?
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 50
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello! I'm back! More like can't keep away, if I'm being honest.
> 
> This work's a little different than anything I've ever done, so bear with me. But it's been on my mind for months and I'm excited to share the first part with you! So I hope you enjoy!

He’s wandering out in the middle of the woods behind his house, the ones he and his friends normally just call the Mirkwood.

This isn’t unusual.

What _is_ unusual, though, is that unlike most times, he’s by himself, friends nowhere to be seen. He’s alone for as far as the eye can see, surrounded by an empty, pristine forest.

 _This isn’t so bad,_ Mike thinks to the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet. In fact, it’s kinda awesome. No Lucas to try to turn everything into a tactical game; no Dustin attempting to play biologist and catalog every living species in the forest; no Will to insist finding some hidden nook to build a fort.

No, this time, it’s just Mike and a sun-dappled forest with mystery hiding behind every tree, endless possibilities and exciting potential.

“Potential” is a word Mike is very familiar with, even though it’s a word that’s a little advanced for an 11 year old. It’s a word that often comes home with him on his report card, along with “gifted” and “bright”. That kind of potential is the kind that his parents coo and fuss over, the kind that gets his tiny 6th grade body stuffed into lockers by the bigger 8th grade boys as they make fun of him for being a nerd.

Mike really isn’t a fan of that kind of potential.

No, he much rather have the kind he has in front of him right now, the kind that promises excitement and discovery around every corner, where his mind can roam free and invent tall tales to his heart’s content.

The forest feels limitless and peaceful. The sun is shining through the trees, leaves just beginning to turn and fall as September gives way to October. It’s warm, but not too warm, and the only sounds Mike hears are the distant chatter of birds and the occasional whistle of the wind through the trees. 

Mike wanders aimlessly, content to just exist. He picks up a stick somewhere during his journey, using it as both a makeshift sword and hiking stick as needed, swishing it through the air and pretending to be a swash-buckling pirate one moment only to poke around at the leaves by his feet the next.

It’s nice, peaceful, and a welcome change from his life these past couple of weeks. He’s only two weeks into being a 6th grader, but Mike finds himself wishing he was still back in elementary school. He’d been hoping that starting middle school would mark the beginning of a change, of things being better than they were in elementary school.

But that’s not the case. Along with the previously mentioned bullies, Mike and his friends are back down on the bottom of the food chain, lowly 6th graders looked down on by the oh-so grown up 7th and 8th graders. And Mike still isn’t used to having to move from room to room for each class. He misses the homeyness of the classrooms in elementary school – this harsh world of middle school hallways is a horrible price to pay for growing up.

Mike doesn’t know how long he’s been wandering, but it feels like forever. He wonders if he’s entered some sort of world where time doesn’t matter anymore, where all that exists is him and these woods. Heck, he doesn’t even remember how he got to _be_ here. It feels like he’s always been here, like the rest of his life has been nothing more than a dream.

But then Mike sees something new, something he’s never encountered in these woods before.

It’s a circle of trees, just off to his left. The way the sunlight shines down on the clearing in the center is what catches his eye, making the air look all soft and hazy under the glow. The ground in the clearing is blanketed by lush grasses and tiny patches of flowers. 

And, in the middle of all of this, is a girl. 

Mike’s been slowly moving towards the clearing and he’s almost to the circle of trees when he notices her. He can see her from the side, long brown hair pulled back into two braided pigtails that hang down her back as she looks down at her hands where she’s weaving a flower crown of small white and pink flowers. 

This girl, whoever she is, is about his age as far as Mike can tell and she’s humming to herself like she doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s strange – Mike’s never _seen_ a girl in these woods before. He just always assumed that girls would rather stay where they wouldn’t get dirty. 

But this girl looks like she’s having fun, if quietly to herself, and the sight is unusual enough to overcome some of his natural shyness. One hand braced on the tree, bark rasping against the skin of his palm, Mike steps between the trees on feet carrying him like he’s being pulled towards her. 

The sound of his footsteps carries loudly in the silence around them and the girl startles, head whipping up so she can look at him. 

And, when she does, Mike freezes in place, unable to do anything but look back. 

Several things happen to him, all at once it feels like. 

His palms go clammy while the back of his neck gets all hot, his heart trips over itself as it struggles to keep up with the beat that’s ramping up, and his stomach does this swooping and soaring flip thing. His hair stands up on end as goosebumps break out on his skin, making him shiver a bit. 

It feels like Mike’s stuck his finger in an electrical socket while he’s on a roller coaster about to give a speech in front of a hundred people. He’s excited and nervous and maybe a little like he’s about to be sick. 

Mike doesn’t know what any of this means, doesn’t understand why he’s feeling like this. All he knows is that he’s _never_ felt like this before in his life and he’s both curious and scared at the same time. 

It helps a little that the girl is looking back at him with a wide-eyed confusion that mirrors what he’s feeling right now. The unexpected feeling of not going through whatever this is alone helps unfreeze Mike from where he’s rooted in place and he takes in a deep, if shaky breath. 

The extra oxygen helps clear the fuzziness from his brain and he’s able to actually pay attention to the details of the girl in front of him. She’s wearing overall shorts and a pale pink t-shirt and there are sparkly, clear jelly sandals on her feet.

But most of Mike’s attention is firmly focused on her face. Her skin is a little darker than his, a natural light tan, and her features are unmistakably girly with full lips, a dainty button nose, and delicate bone structure. And even though there’s a fair amount of distance that separates them, Mike knows – absolutely _knows_ – that her eyes are warm brown with flecks of gold. 

If pressed and absolutely forced to admit it, Mike would say she’s pretty, _really_ pretty. But Mike is 11 and he’s not at the age yet where girls can be pretty.

All he knows is that he feels a little warm and squirmy as he looks at her and that his stomach swoops and heart stutters at the feeling. 

But she’s just staring at him and Mike realizes that he’s being weird. Or maybe they’re _both_ being weird, but it’s starting to make him feel a little uncomfortable.

So, Mike clears his throat as best he can. “Um, hi.” It feels like his mouth is full of marbles or like his tongue is three times its normal size. But he manages to get his voice to work and it feels like a victory.

Especially when she smiles at him – shy and a little hesitant, but still a smile. “Hi,” she says in return, voice small and ringing clear like a bell.

Something in Mike’s heart sparks at the sound of her voice, making him feel a little gooey inside. “Sorry if I scared you.”

Her smile widens and she looks down at the flower crown now sitting on her lap. “It’s ok.” She looks back up at him, small wisps of hair falling in her face after having come loose from her pigtails. “You can stay, if you want.”

The invitation, unprompted, makes Mike flush a little (girls _never_ invite him to hang around, even if he doesn’t care… which he _doesn’t)._ But it doesn’t stop him from approaching her, taking small steps until he can sit down a couple of feet away from her in the grass and flowers. “How long have you been here?” he asks as he folds his legs in front of him, sitting cross-legged.

She shrugs and reaches for another flower for her flower crown. Now that Mike’s closer, he can see she’s about halfway through and he only knows this because he’s watched Nancy make them before. “I don’t know.” She glances at him, one eyebrow arching. “How long have _you_ been here?”

Now it’s Mike’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know, either.” He watches as she weaves in the recently picked flower – tiny with both white and pink petals – into the crown. “I spend a lot of time out here, though, so it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s nice out here,” she says. “Pretty.”

Mike looks away, nodding. He looks up at the trees and the blue sky and around at the grass and flowers around them. “Yeah, I guess. I mostly like exploring out here with my friends. How about you?”

He looks back at her in time to see her face fall a little, lips turning down in a frown. “I don’t have a lot of friends,” she says, so quiet Mike has to strain a little to hear her.

His heart squeezes at the sadness in her voice and he feels the undeniable urge to do _something_ to make her feel better. “Well… I can be your friend, if you want.”

The way her face lights up as she looks back at him makes Mike feel a little like a superhero. “I’d like that,” she says, a little shy, but with lips pulled up in a smile and a soft blush on her cheeks.

Mike finds himself smiling back. “Well, if we’re going to be friends, I guess I should know your name, right?”

She nods, giggling a little. “Right, good idea.” She sets her flower crown down and holds out her hand for a handshake, like a grown-up might. “I’m–”

* * *

  
Mike wakes up with a start, eyes flying open to stare up at his ceiling in his dark bedroom. His breath catches in his throat and he startles at the sudden transition from the woods in his dreams to his bedroom in the middle of the night. It makes him feel dizzy and disoriented, tingly skin stretched over wooden limbs. 

He blinks, giving himself a small shake to try and make the feeling go away. It helps a little and Mike rolls over, half asleep, to curl up on his side.

What _was_ that dream? It felt so real – the warmth of the sun on his skin, the solid ground beneath him, the smell of the woods around him.

The details are beginning to fade, as dreams always do, even as the sensations linger.

But one detail sticks in his mind, staying with him as he falls back asleep: the sight of the girl looking at him with a soft smile and warm golden-brown eyes, sunlight making her glow like a fairy… and the way his heart thumped in response.

* * *

  
Her eyes burn, her eyelids feel gummy and itchy, and her head throbs from her stuffy nose. And still, her tears keep falling, tracing hot tracks down her face, cheeks having grown sticky from the drying tears. Some of them catch on her lips despite trying to rub them away with the back of her hand and the salt from them is also somehow bitter on her tongue. 

God, even in dreams, crying _sucks._

El knows she’s dreaming, though whether she’ll remember that she knows once she wakes up is a different story – like there’s a solid wall between the waking world and the dreaming one that El hasn’t yet figured out how to pass messages through.

The reason El knows she’s dreaming is because of the endless black that surrounds her, like she’s floating in the middle of a void of nothingness. This isn’t the first time El’s dreamed of this place, but it’s the first time she’s been so aware of the vast emptiness that surrounds her.

Just the thought of it – a nothing that goes on forever – makes El shiver despite her tears. The movement rustles her hair and the ends of the newly shortened strands (one of the sources of her tears) brush up along the sides and back of her neck, tickling her jawline. The sensation, a reminder, sparks another wave of tears and a hiccuping sob bursts out from between her lips.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” The unexpected voice comes from behind her, but El doesn’t need to turn to know who it is – she recognizes the voice by now, the one belonging to the boy with the beautiful freckles and hair as black as midnight.

 _Guess it was his turn to find me,_ El thinks with a teary sniff. It’s been a few weeks since that first dream, the one in the forest where she made a flower crown and then a new friend. And, since then, she’s dreamed about him two or three times a week, this boy whose name she doesn’t know, whose name she never remembers to ask for until after she’s woken up. 

Sometimes, like tonight, like the first night, he finds her in the dream. Sometimes she finds him. And, sometimes, they’re already together, as if she’s tuning into the dream after it’s started – like the one last week where they were building sandcastles at the beach, everything warm around them as they laughed and built impossible structures with sand and water. 

El’s starting to realize when these dreams are going to be one where he’ll show up (if he’s not already with her, that is). They’re just a little more vibrant, a little more _real_ feeling than normal dreams. 

El wishes they _were_ real. Here, she has a friend, someone who talks to her and laughs with her and likes being with her. It hurts that there’s no one like that in her real life. 

El feels more than sees him sit down next to her, distracting her from her thoughts. She hasn’t spoken, hasn’t answered his questions. Instead, her tears keep falling and her breath trembles in her chest with each inhale. 

“Do you, um… do you wanna talk about it?” His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s afraid anything he says might make her cry even harder. “If not, that’s ok,” he hurries to say. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

El can feel him, shoulders just barely not touching, the sensation of him sitting so close making that side of her body buzz a little. She wants to talk about it, but she doesn’t know what to say – heck, she can’t even bring herself to look over at him yet. But even as she’s trying to figure out what to say, it’s nice just to know that there’s someone nearby who cares.

_Even if he only exists in her dreams._

Still, her silence doesn’t keep him from talking at all and, after a few seconds of awkward silence from his end, he starts to speak once more. “I, um, I like your hair. It looks… good.”

El appreciates that he’s trying, but it’s _absolutely_ the wrong thing to say. Mention of her newly short hair just makes her cry that much harder.

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry! Please, don’t cry. I, um, I–”

The panic in his voice is plain to hear and El shakes her head to get him to stop talking. “It’s – it’s ok,” she says, breath hitching as she tries to make her voice work. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this.”

El looks over at him in time to see his eyebrows come down over his eyes and nose, the skin between them furrowing, as a frown tugs down on his mouth. “What happened?” he asks. His tongue flashes out to lick at his lips and he looks away for a moment, like he’s scared he’s going to make her cry even harder or make her angry by asking. But he looks back at her and meets her eyes without flinching.

El squirms a little at the question, but she tries to ignore it. “Some girls in my class. They were making fun of me.” She looks away, unable to handle the way his gaze softens as he looks at her. “They were calling me names, saying that nobody wanted me around. One of them put gum in my hair. It wouldn’t come out, so they had to cut it this short to make it even.” El’s lower lip wobbles at the memory _and_ what came after. “Now they’re saying I look like a boy.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” he says. The words are forceful, almost _angry,_ and El finds that she can’t stop from looking back up at him. “There’s _no way_ you look like a boy. You’re too pre–” He cuts off and El can maybe guess what he was going to say from how his face goes bright red. “I mean, you look too much like a girl to be mistaken for a boy.”

The unexpected, if unfinished compliment brings a little bit of lightness to El’s heart and she giggles. It feels good to giggle. “Thank you.”

“Your hair does look nice, though. It’d look nice no matter how short it is.” This compliment is sincere and soft and the way he smiles as he says it makes El feel all warm and gooey inside.

El smiles, nose wrinkling. “Even if I shaved my head?”

He laughs, a bright, happy sound that makes her feel lighter than air. It’s a good sound, his laughter, and the way it makes his face light up hits El right in the heart. “Yeah, even then.” He calms down and his face goes serious. “Why were those girls making fun of you?”

The question makes El curl her knees up against her chest, arms wrapping around her legs to hold them close. “My mom, she –” The words stick in El’s throat and she has to swallow hard to clear the way as her eyes fill up with tears. This hurts even more than being bullied by the girls in her class. “She left me and my dad. Somehow, everyone at school found out and, well….” El shrugs, not knowing what else to say. 

She’s not sure how everyone found out, but it’s been nothing but a weapon for the other kids to use against her. She was already singled out because her dad’s a cop – no one likes a girl who might snitch on you to the police – and now she’s the girl who’s mom ran out on her.

“Why? Why’d your mom go?”

El sniffs and wipes away the tears that fall down one cheek with the heel of her head. “Dunno,” she says. And it’s true. Everything seemed fine until everything _wasn’t_ fine, until she came home to her dad sitting her down and telling her that Mom wasn’t going to be coming home.

El thinks it’s maybe something she did, that it _has_ to be. After all, she’s not popular or super smart or really girly. She’s stubborn and headstrong and would fight with her mom more times than a daughter probably should. The only thing that El can think of is that she disappointed her mom so much, it made her leave.

“I’m sorry,” he says and El feels a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The gentle touch makes a sob bubble up inside El’s chest and she can’t hold it back. “I don’t know where she is or if I’m going to see her ever again. I don’t even know why she left me.” She looks over at him, wanting _someone_ to give her answers. “Why would she leave me?”

The way he’s looking at her is soft and sad and he doesn’t say anything as he leans towards her, arms open in a welcoming, comforting hug. El lets him hug her, twisting so she can wrap her arms around him in return. “Thank you,” she says. His hugs aren’t as big as her dad’s and his arms aren’t anywhere near as strong, but she feels safe inside them just the same.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles and, for a long moment, they just sit there like this, El gratefully taking the comfort he so easily gives.

After a bit, though, El pulls back, but she doesn’t go far. She leans so that her head rests on his shoulder as they sit side by side in the neverending darkness around them. “Will you… will you stay? For a little while?”

“As long as you need,” he says. Her heart almost bursts with the warmth running through her veins. “Friends stay for as long as you need.”

* * *

  
Her hand tugs on his, gentle but insistent. Mike turns, eyes passing over the faceless crowds around them, so he can look at her. Her own eyes, irises of gold-flecked brown, are looking back at him with joy and hope. 

“Can we go do that?” she asks, almost shy, and she points off somewhere in the distance in front of them. 

Mike follows the direction of her daintily pointed finger. His gaze scans down the row of booths, each one a different carnival game, until he sees it. He looks back at her as one eyebrow arches. “The water gun one?” 

She nods and gives him a small smile. “Yeah, that one. Can we?”

Mike can’t help but smile back, not when her own smile is so adorable. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want!”

She giggles before tugs on his hand once more, pulling him along with her as she starts to walk. “Ok, great, let’s go!”

Mike follows easily and it only takes a few steps before they’re walking side-by-side. The crowd of fair-goers parts easily around them like smoke. There’s no sound from the crowd other than the normal kind of low roar that one would expect from a large gathering of people, but none of it seems to reach Mike’s ears.

Mike doesn’t find this unusual, though – it’s just how these kinds of dreams go.

It’s been about a year since Mike started having these dreams. In that year, he’s turned 12 years old and moved up to the 7th grade, but not much else has changed. Yeah, he’s gotten a little taller, maybe, but puberty and the promised growth spurt that goes with it hasn’t started yet.

Not that Mike really cares about any of that. He’s only 12, after all, and isn’t in much of a hurry to grow up at all.

Really, the only notable thing is the fact that he keeps dreaming about this girl, the one currently walking next to him with barely contained excitement to go and play a carnival game.

At first, the dreams were only a couple of times a week. But now, it’s almost every night. Some nights are like this, where there’s a lot going on – sights and sounds and smells and crazy action. 

Just around him, for example, Mike can see knights jousting on horses all the way down at the end of the row of games, only the horses are blue and green, not normal horse colors. There’s a guy selling cotton candy, but he’s riding around on a bicycle floating in the air by a couple of balloons, one each tied to the back tire and handle bars. And one of the games he walks by has people shooting down hovering ghosts by shooting fireballs out of their hands.

So, yeah, pretty wacky.

But some of the other dreams are super peaceful – just him and her, not even talking, sitting and enjoying the scenery around them, whether its the night sky or a forest or a wide open field.

But, no matter what’s going on around him, the one thing these dreams all have in common is _her,_ the girl whose name he still doesn’t know, but someone who he’s started thinking of as a friend. When he’s awake, Mike is convinced she’s just a figment of his overactive imagination. But when he’s actually in the middle of the dream, he swears that she’s real, that she _has_ to be. There’s just no way he could have dreamed up someone like her.

As they get close to the water gun game, she runs in front of him with a skip in her step, eager to play. There’s no one at this booth, so all the water guns are free for them to choose from. “Here, next to me!” she calls out with laughter in her voice. She looks back at him, waving him over as she chooses her water gun.

Mike laughs – because what else is he supposed to do? She’s just too cute – and goes to the spot she’s chosen for him.

The carnival barker running the game tips his hat at them with a grin and a wink, which makes her giggle and look over at Mike. Her hair, which has grown out and is now just below her shoulders, brushes against her neck as it fans out around her face and there’s a blush creeping up her cheeks as she looks at him.

This is a recent development. Over the past few weeks or so, Mike has sometimes noticed her blushing when she looks at him. Occasionally, she’ll even giggle and look away, like she’s suddenly gotten all shy, but she always goes back to normal quickly enough. Mike has no idea what it means, but it always makes him feel a little warm and squirmy whenever he notices it.

The game starts before Mike can think about it for too much longer and it doesn’t take him long to get caught up in the goal right in front of him: namely, squirting water into a large, cartoon daisy and watching as the meter above it rises while he keeps an eye on his sole opponent’s progress.

But just as it is in real life, Mike’s eye-hand coordination is absolute shit and it doesn’t take long for her to beat him. And when she wins, she lets out a giggling shriek, clapping her hands together in the ultimate expression of absolute joy. “I won!” she exclaims, looking over at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Something in his chest lurches painfully at the sight, but before he can figure out what’s causing it, the carnival barker comes into view.

“Looks like the little lady here won! What’s your prize, miss?” He gestures towards the prize wall with a sweep of his arm and Mike looks to see what the options are.

“Oh, hmm, let’s see….” she says. Mike spares a glance to look over at her, just long enough to see the adorably focused expression on her face as she weighs her choices, before he looks back to the wall of prizes to see if he can guess what she might choose.

There’s all sorts of stuff on the wall, some that seems normal and some that, well… _doesn’t._ There’s giant teddy bears and other stuffed toys alongside things like a jar containing a fairy floating preserved in a pink cloud and a shimmering space sword that sucks in all the light around it. 

But it only takes a few more moments for her to settle on her prize and Mike eagerly watches as she chooses. “There, that one!” she says, pointing at something in the middle that Mike can’t quite make out.

But the carnival barker has no problem finding the one she wants. “Ah, a good choice. A pretty prize for a pretty girl.” He goes over to the wall and pulls off a necklace with a shining star pendant that shimmers with a pale iridescent light. He hands it over and she waits no time in putting it on, Mike watching as the pendant settles easily around her neck.

“Thank you,” she says to the barker. A small smile now graces her face and it makes her shine brighter than the star that hangs around her neck.

 _Pretty,_ comes from somewhere deep in his brain and Mike isn’t sure if it’s referring to the necklace… or to _her._

She looks back at him, all giddy and happy, and Mike feels that lurch in his chest again, the one he still can’t quite explain. The answer is tantalizingly just out of place and he isn’t able to figure it out by the time she grabs his hand once more. “Come on, let’s go see what else we can do!”

This time, though, she doesn’t let go of his hand as she starts dragging him further into the carnival. Her hand is warm in his, skin soft, and she curls her fingers around his palm like she has no intention of ever letting him go. 

Mike’s stomach swoops dangerously. Goosebumps break out on his skin, making him shiver, and his heart thumps hard and fast in his chest. It makes him lose his footing and he stumbles a bit as he follows her.

She stops and turns to look back at him. Her face is full of concern – brows furrowed, lips pulled down in a gentle frown, eyes soft and curious – and his breath catches in his chest.

It hits Mike in this moment, what’s happening to him: he _likes_ her. _Like_ -likes her. She’s pretty and nice and treats him like he’s her friend. When he wakes up, this realization will make him angry (what kind of idiot has a crush on a girl who only exists in dreams?). But in the moment, it just makes him feel all… _floaty._

“Are you ok?” she asks, voice light and tinkling like soft wind chimes.

Mike’s heart does another pitter-patter in his chest and it takes him a second to respond. He nods vigorously, almost making himself dizzy. “Yeah, yeah,” he hurries to say. “I’m–” _great, amazing, lovesick_ “–fine.”

She takes a step towards him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Mike thinks his heart might burst out of his chest at any moment. “You sure?”

He smiles, feeling like he’s just gotten his first glimpse at the secrets of the universe at the way her eyes look at him like it’s important that he’s actually, truly ok. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She smiles back and squeezes his hand and it feels like a dream within a dream. “Ok, good.” Her smile grows and turns into a playful grin. “I think I saw a ferris wheel. You wanna check it out?”

He squeezes her hand back and never, _ever_ wants to let go. “Sounds good. You lead the way.”

* * *

  
She’s in the middle of walking through the forest by the time she’s aware that she’s dreaming. She’s alone and the boy with the beautiful freckles is nowhere to be found.

El’s not concerned, though. If there’s anything the past two years of having these dreams has taught her, it’s that she’ll find him or the other way around eventually. No need to worry. 

So El lets herself enjoy a leisurely stroll through the woods. It’s a warm spring day in the dream – a nice contrast to the fall temperatures they’ve been having in Indianapolis – the sun is shining and the air smells sweet. 

The grass is soft beneath her bare feet – there’s no risk of hurting herself accidentally in these dreams – and the hem of the plain, white sundress she’s wearing brushes gently against the skin of her knees. A plucked flower finds its way into her hair, but not before El lifts it to her nose and lets its scent fill her lungs. She feels romantic and free, like a woodland spirit, and it makes her heart grow warm. 

Just like she knew would happen, it doesn’t take her long to find him. A tree sits perched at the edge of a clearing and El finds her gaze pulled upward. 

There he is, up in the tree, sitting with his back to her on a thick branch as he looks out at the scenery in front of him. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, the jeans rolled up to his calves, and he’s letting his bare feet gently swing back and forth beneath him. 

El doesn’t even think before she starts climbing, eager to be with him, having missed him desperately during her waking hours. It’s lonely, when she’s awake. And though she’s just made a new friend – a girl named Max who moved to Indianapolis from California and has the brightest red hair El’s ever seen (fitting given the brash confidence she carries wrapped around her) – it’s not like it is here.

He’s been her friend for two years now, this boy who only exists in her dreams. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t wish he was real, that she could really be with him.

The bark of the tree is rough beneath the skin of her palms, but her footing is sure and her hands never fail to find a hold. The climb is as easy as breathing, completely effortless, and it’s no time at all until she’s stepping out onto the branch, mere steps away from him. 

He looks over at her with a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. “There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

The smile on his face makes El’s heart skip and flip in her chest. Her stomach swoops as an army of butterflies flutters to life just beneath her skin. “Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s just such a nice day for a walk.”

“It’s ok. You’re here now and that’s what matters.” He reaches a hand out for her, palm up and waiting. “Here, let me help you sit.”

El gratefully takes the offered hand. Immediately, shivers run up her arm and across her skin at the touch of her palm to his. She’s long since given up trying to control how he makes her feel. El is falling in love with the boy of her dreams and she can’t even bring herself to be mad at herself for it. 

(It’s only when she’s awake that the thought makes her sad. This boy, with his beautiful freckles and sweeping cheekbones, with his rich, dark hair and equally dark eyes that seem to see right into her soul, is nothing more than a fantastical dream brought to life in her subconscious. No other boy at her school even comes close to making her feel like he does.)

His hand steadying her, holding her hand tight, El gently sits down next to him, free hand tucking her skirt against the backs of her legs as she lowers herself onto the branch. The feel of his hand holding hers, guiding and supporting her like a gallant knight escorting a princess, makes her feel all bubbly inside and El can’t stop the skipping thump of her heart against her ribcage.

Once she’s settled next to him, they don’t let go of each other’s hands and El leans so that her head is resting on his shoulder. He’s gotten taller over the past year, stretching up higher and higher every day, it seems. Now he’s at just the right height for her to snuggle up beside him, cheek pressed against the curve of his shoulder. 

His t-shirt is thin and does nothing to keep the warmth of his body from soaking into her skin and El lets out a sigh. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he says. His thumb starts stroking the top of hers where their hands are intertwined, fingers woven together. It makes El shiver.

She lets out a shaky breath and feels herself begin to relax. Being with him always makes her feel good and, for a while, they just sit there in silence, content with nothing more than each other’s company. But she also likes the sound of his voice and longs to hear it. “School started back up today,” she says.

A laugh breathes out of him. “We start school tomorrow,” he says. “How was it?”

El shrugs, shoulder pushing against his arm. “Ok – would have liked to have you with me.”

“I would have liked to be there.” His head falls into hers, cheek resting against the top of her head.

El smiles at his closeness. “I made a friend, though. A new girl – her name’s Max.”

This time, a laugh bursts out of him in earnest. “Max? What kind of name for a girl is that?”

“It’s short for Maxine,” El says with a giggle. “She wants to go by Max, though.” El shrugs again. “I dunno, she’s nice. Not like the other girls.”

“The other girls?” he asks, prompting.

“Snooty, stuck-up, mean,” El says. She can’t help but think of the girls who put gum in her hair and made fun of her mom abandoning her. It makes her stomach turn. “Max is blunt, but she doesn’t seem cruel. S’nice, making a new friend.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “Haven’t made any new friends since the 4th grade.”

At this, El lifts up her head, neck craning so she can look at him. “What about me? Aren’t we friends?” Her eyebrows arch up towards her hairline and her mouth curls down in the beginnings of a frown, heart pounding in her chest.

He smiles at her, sweet and a little shy, a blush crawling up over his cheeks. “Well, yeah, but it’s different. _You’re_ different.”

Her breath catches in her chest and it feels like she's standing at the edge of a high cliff and looking down at the ground far below. “Different? How?”

He looks away, down at their clasped hands, fingers giving her a squeeze. “You’re pretty,” he says, barely above a whisper.

 _Oh._ “You think I’m pretty?” El doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to draw in a full breath ever again, she feels so overwhelmed, heart racing and stomach swooping.

He nods, gulping. “Yeah, really pretty.” He pauses, licking his lips “A-and you’re nice and I like talking with you and you make me laugh.” He smiles and the curve of his lips pierces her right in the heart. “I like being with you. I wish I could always be with you.”

For a moment, El can only stare up at him. He’s looking at her with hope and longing, eyes sparkling in the spring shade. A gentle breeze pushes past them, ruffling his hair, making the ends dance across the skin of his forehead. She wants to say something, something just as nice and amazing as he said to her, but she can’t find the words. It’s without a doubt the most romantic thing a boy has ever said to her – ever _will_ say to her, she thinks – and it deserves a response. She has to let him know she feels the same.

Spurred on by that thought, El leans in before she can stop herself. She sees his eyes widen just before hers slip close and her mouth presses against his in a soft, sudden kiss. He sucks in a sharp breath, but it’s only a heartbeat before he kisses her back, mouth gentle but firm against hers, and, _oh,_ nothing has ever felt this good. El’s heart feels like it’s just sprouted wings and is about to fly away. Every inch of her skin tingles, nerve endings lighting up like a Christmas tree. She never, _ever_ wants to wake up from this dream.

The kiss ends a couple seconds later and El’s cheeks feel all hot as she pulls away. “I like being with you, too,” she says, throat thick with the emotions that are running through her. “I hate that I ever have to be anywhere else.”

“Then stay here with me forever,” he says in a low voice. His eyes are filled with wild, desperate happiness.

El smiles, feeling like she’s about to float away from the sheer joy coursing through her. “Ok, I’d like that.”

He smiles back at her, face lighting up in a way that highlights just how handsome he is, his smile making her feel all squirmy and giddy. He starts to lean back in and El responds in kind, eyes fluttering shut as her head tilts just so, his breath tickling the skin around her mouth.

The last thing El feels before she wakes up is the gentle brush of his lips against hers, warm and soft, and it feels heartbreakingly like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there ever be an explanation for the dream-sharing? *shrugs* Dunno, guess you'll have to wait to find out 😉.
> 
> But the next part _should_ be out next week sometime. This whole thing is mapped out and each chapter should be around the same length. So, let me know what you think and until next time, y'all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, somehow, "next week sometime" turned into "three weeks later", but I made it! Sorry about the uber-delay - first work got stupid busy to the point where I had no brain power to write for about a week, I was so tired. Then I got distracted with various other things for a little bit (side note, everyone here needs to go watch "Dark" on Netflix), but I always had this story in the back of my mind.
> 
> Which, is why we're here! So I hope you enjoy whatever the heck this story is (seriously, sometimes I wonder how I thought of this one....). And let me know what you think!

He’s standing at the foot of a staircase in a school hallway that’s not _his_ school hallway. Off in the distance, he can hear the faint sound of music, like a faraway echo. _And_ he’s wearing a suit – navy blue, well-fitting, complete with a matching tie and a button down shirt. 

Yeah, it’s official. Mike’s _really_ confused. 

_She must be controlling this one,_ he thinks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, not worrying about maybe wrinkling his slacks. He’s come to realize over the past three years that it’s not always his subconscious that drives these dreams. Sometimes, they come from _her_ mind, her hopes and fears and desires. 

Once again, he wonders who she is.

Once again, he wonders if she’s _real._

But Mike’s not terribly concerned about any of that at the moment. He never is, in the middle of these dreams. No, those are a waking person’s thoughts and they have no place here. 

Instead, Mike focuses on looking around where he is, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits. The school hallway he’s in isn’t the one at Hawkins High and the posters that line the walls aren’t precisely legible, but it’s most definitely a school hallway with glossy linoleum floors and clusters of lockers littered up and down the length of it. 

Mike wishes he knew where he was – a hint, just the tiniest clue – then, maybe, he could find her in real life and his thoughts, dreaming and otherwise, wouldn’t be haunted by _her._

It’s not enough that he dreams about her every night. No, she’s taken to invading his waking thoughts as well. He daydreams about her, _fantasizes_ about her. She’s the standard he measures all other girls he meets against and none of them even come close to her beauty, the sparkling nature of her personality. It’s like he’s in love with an impossible girl, only nothing can convince that stubborn corner of his heart that she’s just someone he dreamed up.

Somehow, he’s managed to keep it a secret that he’s been dreaming about the same girl almost every night for 3 years. But Lucas and Dustin are starting to wonder why he hasn’t shown any interest in any of the girls they know, especially now that they’re in high school and there are junior and senior girls to check out.

And, yeah, Mike will admit that some of the girls at Hawkins High are pretty and he’s checked out some of them from time to time (he’s a 14-year old boy going through puberty; he’s not _dead)._ But none of them compare to the girl with the honey chestnut hair and gold-flecked brown eyes and, worst of all, he doesn’t _want_ any of them to compare.

Though his mind yells at him when he’s awake to recognize that he might have a problem – like he’s undergoing a slow schizophrenic break or something – his heart remains unconvinced. No, his heart is happily and stubbornly in love and that’s _that._

It’s like he’s living a double life. There’s his normal life, where he goes to school and hangs out with his friends and bickers with his sisters and does the kind of normal stuff a high school freshman does, but always feeling like something is missing. And then there’s the life he lives in his dreams, where he’s completely happy and content and blessed with the affections of the sweetest, most beautiful girl he’s ever met. And he always forgets, until his mind reminds him, that the world of his dreams is just that: a dream.

The clacking echo of high heels draws Mike’s attention back to what’s happening around him and his gaze is drawn up to the top of the staircase just in time to see her come into view. And he immediately proceeds to forget how to breathe.

 _Stunning,_ is the only coherent thought he can muster. The rest of his brain is desperately trying to process what he’s seeing, trying to take in everything at once. 

To call what she’s wearing a dress is a slight to the fabric that’s wrapped around her. It’s _perfect_ – pale pink and shimmery, short sleeves wrapped around the tops of her arms to show off the skin of her shoulders; bodice of the dress hugging tight to the lines of her torso; full skirt flaring out at the hips. 

A pair of low, dainty heels encases her feet and her hair is pinned up on one side, left loose on the other so that it brushes against the skin of her shoulder and collarbone. And the way she’s looking at him with eyes sparkling with happiness and lips pulled up in a shy but excited grin makes Mike’s heart trip over itself as it starts to race in his chest. 

She steps down off the last stair and walks towards him, stopping only inches away as she looks up at him. “Hi,” she says in the softest voice Mike’s ever heard. The sound of it does funny things to his heart.

“Hi,” he says back, barely whispering the word. “Wow, you….”

She smiles up at him, eyebrows arching encouragingly. With her this close, Mike can see the pale shimmer of makeup around her eyes and on her lips. “Yeah?”

“Beautiful. You’re just… _beautiful.”_ The words come out sounding a little strangled, but that’s because there’s so many emotions coursing through him right now that it’s choking him up. Mike’s just so overwhelmed.

She ducks her gaze as a blush creeps up her cheeks and the flutter of her lashes makes his breath catch in his throat. “Thank you.” She reaches for him and Mike slips his hand out of his pocket so he can meet her halfway. Her hand is warm, delicate fingers holding onto his with deceptive strength, and Mike can’t ignore the electricity that runs up his arm at her touch. “You look good, too – handsome,” she says.

Mike’s own cheeks heat up at the compliment, spoken sincerely. No other girl has ever called him handsome before – no one’s ever thought him attractive enough to bother. “I’m glad you think so.”

Her smile grows a little bit wider. “I like the flower on your jacket. It matches mine.” 

Mike looks down and sees a flower pinned to his jacket that wasn’t there before. His eyes then slide over to where she’s holding up her wrist to show off the corsage held there with delicate elastic. The two flowers – white, broad petals open in full bloom – are identical as far as Mike can tell. “Well, that’s fitting.”

She giggles and the sound alights upon his heart with gentle, sparkling warmth. “Shall we?” she asks. She punctuates the question with an arch of her eyebrows and a tug on his hand. 

Mike’s not sure exactly what awaits them, but he’s looking forward to finding out. Before they do that, though, there’s something that needs doing first. “In a second,” he says, lips curving up in a grin at the adorable confusion that crosses her face. “Haven’t properly said hi yet.”

It seems to hit her just what he means right as he tugs on her hand to pull her the rest of the way towards him. Her lips part just so as she breathes in a delicate gasp and she looks up at him with soft, eager eyes. They lean towards each other, easy as falling, and their lips meet in the middle in a sweet kiss that tugs on something deep inside Mike’s soul.

Her lips are soft where they glide gently against his and she lets out a light moan that dies upon his lips. A noise escapes him in response, something between a groan and a whimper, and Mike kisses her just that much harder.

There’s nothing he’s ever experienced that feels as good as kissing her. It makes his heart race something fierce in his chest, makes him feel like he’s floating on air. He thinks he could _always_ do this and never ever get bored of it.

He’s a little out of breath when he pulls back as the kiss ends. She’s breathing hard, too, her cheeks having turned the most fetching shade of pink from her deepening blush, and it’s relieving to see that she’s just as affected by their kiss as he is. “Hi,” he says, feeling like a broken record and grinning like a fool about it. But he’s just so _happy_ right now and doesn’t care about how silly he looks. 

She giggles and gives him a blinding smile. “Hi,” she says before she starts pulling him down the hall with a tug of her hand. “C’mon, it’s this way. We don’t want to be late.”

Mike lets her pull him alongside her, his steps easily matching hers. “Late for what?” he asks. 

“You’ll see.” She glances over at him, smile turning mischievous. 

Mike breathes out a laugh but doesn’t press the issue further. Instead, he once again takes a look around at their surroundings, frowning slightly. “Is this where you go to school?”

“Mm-hmm, yeah,” she says to the sound of their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway around them. “Pretty typical high school. How about you?”

“Not here, but it looks similar.” Mike lets out a laugh. “Sometimes I think all high schools are just clones with different colors. They almost all look the same.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The music gets louder as they go further down the hall and it’s not long before they’re walking through the open doors to the gym, where the music is coming from. 

The gym is decorated for a school dance, Mike quickly realizes – there’s streamers and balloons and the low, twinkling iridescence of a disco ball dimmed in a way that is supposed to be romantic. 

But except for the two of them, the gym is completely empty of people. “What is this? Where is everyone?” Despite the music that fills the air around them, Mike’s voice echoes in the space, sounding hollow as it bounces off the four walls.

“It’s the Homecoming dance at my school,” she says. Her voice dips low with melancholy. “I didn’t get to go.”

Mike’s brow furrows as he looks over at her. “Why not?”

She looks back at him with a sad smile. “No one to go with. You’re, I mean… well, you know.” She shrugs, sighing. “And no one else asked me.”

A complicated knot of emotions tangles up around his heart. One the one hand, the thought of _anyone else_ with her – holding her, dancing with her, taking her out on a date to the dance – makes him want to throw up. Dammit, that should be _his_ job and no one else’s!

But, on the other hand, his heart breaks at the sadness in her voice, the sadness from feeling unwanted and unworthy. She should be everyone’s first choice, should have guys lining up around the block for just the slimmest hope for a chance with her, she’s that amazing. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike finally says, forcing the words through the thickness in his throat. “If I could have, I would have asked.”

Her eyes shimmer as she looks up at him, hope swimming in her gaze. “Yeah?”

“In a heartbeat,” Mike says. “You’re the only one I’d ever want to go to a dance with.”

Her eyes flutter shut and she draws in a steadying breath before she looks back up at him. “Thank you.”

The sincerity in her voice pulls at his heart and Mike finds himself unable to hold her gaze. It’s like staring at the sun – look too long and you’ll injure yourself beyond repair. “Well, you know, friends tell the truth,” he murmurs. 

The music picks this exact moment to transition from one song to another and Mike recognizes it immediately as a slow song. He doesn’t know what song it is – or if it’s even a real song – but the slow drum beat, melodious guitar, and soft piano all together in perfect harmony is a dead giveaway. 

Their hands are still joined when a flash of inspiration hits him. Mike looks back at her, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you wanna dance with me?”

She gives him that shy, sweet smile that does funny things to his insides and his breath hitches in his chest. “No one’s ever asked me to dance before.”

“Well, I’ve never asked anyone to dance before, so it’s new for both of us,” Mike says, smile growing wider. “So, do you wanna?”

She nods, humming her assent. Wordlessly, Mike leads them into the middle of the empty dance floor. His hands go to her hips while hers easily slide up to rest on his shoulders. They begin gently swaying to the music and Mike’s pulse beats wildly in his veins. She’s looking up at him like he’s given her the whole world and it makes him feel dizzy from the rush of emotions it sets off inside of him.

God, she feels so good in his arms, like this is where they both belong. And he knows he’s going to wake up heartsick with longing for this perfect girl who only exists in his dreams.

“Thank you,” she says after several seconds, a dreamy smile fixed on her lips.

The gratitude cuts into Mike’s thoughts and he tilts his head as he looks down at her. “For what?”

Her smile grows, showing off the whites of her teeth. “For giving me this moment. For being here. I don’t know what I would do without you. I just wish….” Words seem to fail her and she sighs, looking up at him like he’s all she’ll ever need.

Mike gets it – _god,_ does he get it. His heart feels full to bursting with all the emotions coursing through him and he just nods, gulping down the lump in his throat. “I know,” he says, ragged and whispered. “Me too.” He leans forward, then, and her face tips up just in time for him to swoop in and capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

They stay there for Mike doesn’t know how long – dancing to the soft music, trading equally soft kisses – happy and content and together as they hold each other close.

When he finally (unfortunately) wakes up, Mike swears he can still feel her in his arms, missing her so much it makes his heart ache.

So much that, though he won’t ever admit it to anyone, he’s unable to keep his eyes from misting over with tears.

* * *

  
El really hates mazes. 

Truth be told, she’s not really a fan of mind games of any kind – straight-forward puzzles are fine, but when things get obtuse, El starts to get frustrated – but mazes really bother her. A maze’s only purpose, as far as El can tell, is to taunt you with your goal while doing its damnedest to keep you from it. 

El would rather hit her head against a wall. 

But, a maze is where she now finds herself and the urgency she feels in her veins tells her that sitting this one out is not an option.

El’s dreaming – she _knows_ she is. And after almost 5 years of these kinds of dreams, El’s gotten really good at telling the difference between regular dreams and whatever _this_ kind is.

Which means, El’s going to have to make her way through the maze to the very end. Because that’s where _he_ is, waiting for her.

El doesn’t know how she knows that bit exactly, but she does – knows it down to the very fiber of her soul. At this point, El doesn’t question these things. She’s gotten to the point where she’s accepted that there are somethings you don’t question. And one of those things is these strange dreams with this boy who she’s connected to (and who’s probably not even _real)._

So, El walks, navigating her way through the maze, a sinking feeling in her stomach. The atmosphere around her is… _unsettling._ The light is suffused with a flat, red tinge; there’s a constant low drone in the background, just inside her range of hearing; and the corners of the walls and ceiling are both too sharp and too round at the same time, making it nauseating to look at. 

This isn’t El making it like this. It’s _him_ and the realization kicks off an even deeper sense of urgency.

El keeps her gaze somewhere between straight ahead and on the floor as she walks. It could be 5 minutes or an hour or 5 hours for all El knows, but she eventually, _finally,_ comes out the other side.

And, just like she knew deep down inside, he’s waiting for her, her beautiful freckled boy. Laying on the ground – which, from the looks of it, is as soft as a down mattress – maybe 10 feet away, staring up at the ceiling listlessly. Though, El thinks as she looks at him, he really isn’t so much a _boy_ anymore. 

No, as El has grown, so has he. And while she’s just gotten curvier and softer over the years (not in a bombshell kinda way, but in a more willowy, gentle kinda way), he’s just grown _up,_ reaching heights that have him towering over her, growing long and lean in a way that never fails to entice her. 

It’s like the shape of the man he’s going to be is slowly being built in front of her. And with his broad shoulders paired with narrow hips and hands that are one part large palms and one part long, delicate fingers, it’s a shape El desperately wants to see the whole of once it’s finished. 

But, that’s neither here nor there for the moment. 

Laying there like he is, El just _knows_ he’s the source of this unsettling maze, so she makes sure to keep her steps calm and quiet as she walks over to him. 

He must hear her anyway because he rotates his head to look at her. El swallows hard at the lost sadness in his eyes, but she’s encouraged by the spark that lights in his gaze when he registers that it’s her approaching him. “Hey,” he says. The single word is spoken with more weight than an entire dictionary and El _feels_ the effort it took for him to speak it. 

She smiles at him, feeling like she’s approaching a wary animal – one wrong move and she’ll spook him away for good. “Hey.” She doesn’t say anything else for a little bit, not as she goes up to him and lays down next to him. 

The ground is cloud-soft beneath her and she sighs at the warmth of him as she snuggles into his side. His shoulder makes the most perfect pillow and the feel of his arm wrapping around her back is like coming home. “Took me a while to find you.”

He shrugs and it jostles her head. “Wasn’t sure if I wanted you to find me.”

El sighs and curls into him. Her arm snakes over his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt. “What’s wrong? You never have to hide anything from me. You can tell me anything.”

He nods and swallows heavily, audibly so. “I know I can.”

“So tell me, so I can help.” El nuzzles her face against his neck, nose pressing against the edge of his jaw. He smells like the forest where they met – clean, warm, lightly woodsy– and she breathes deeply of him.

“It’s my parents,” he says after a heavy pause. He sighs and the air leaves him with a suspicious tremble. His free hand, not the one currently resting against the slope of her waist, comes up to curl around her elbow that’s laying on his stomach. “They’re getting a divorce.”

The sadness in his voice immediately tugs on every heartstring El has and she holds him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” he says, huffing out a breathless, humorless laugh. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says. Unbidden, El’s thoughts go back to the early days after her mom left her and her dad, through the ensuing, bitter divorce that left icy walls in its wake. Her and her dad are _still_ recovering from what happened then – she thinks, sometimes, it’s going to be a wound that’ll never heal.

“Like, who am I going to live with? Who’s going to keep the house? Am I going to have to go to a new school? Make new friends?” His breath hitches, catching wet in his throat. “I can’t – I don’t know if I –” Words fail him and he lets out a painful whimper as he tries to keep himself under control.

The pain in El’s heart feels all too real, sharp and almost nauseating, and she finds herself pulling her arm beneath her so she can push up onto it. Her other hand reaches for him, coming up to cup his cheek. His skin is soft beneath her touch and it glides smoothly beneath the drag of her thumb.

But what El can’t look away from is his eyes, eyes that are now shimmering with tears. There’s so much pain and fear and sadness looking back up at her and El finds her own eyes beginning to water over. “Hey, hey, shh.” She shifts her hand so that his ear rests in the curve between her thumb and forefinger as her fingers slide into thick, dark hair. “It’ll be ok. _You’ll_ be ok. I’m here, yeah? I’m here.”

His mouth works a couple of times, tongue flashing out to wet his lips, before he manages to find his words. “I just – I wish….”

A pang hits her directly in the heart and El swallows down the lump in her throat. Unable to speak, she leans down and brushes her lips against his in a gesture of comfort, of love and support. Another whimper crawls out of him and he tilts his face up to return the kiss. The kiss isn’t a passionate one, but it’s _needy,_ and he trembles against her like he’s inches away from falling apart completely and she’s the only thing holding him together. 

El ends the kiss a few seconds later, but she doesn’t go far. She tilts her head so that her forehead rests against his, noses pressed together from bridge to tip, and breathes deeply of him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” He sounds more like that little boy she met in the forest than the man he’s becoming and it tears at El’s heart. And she knows, no matter what happens, no matter if this is real or not, she’ll do _anything_ for him. Always and forever.

“I promise.”

* * *

  
The sand on the beach is warm beneath his bare feet and the air is sweet with the hint of a warm, tropical breeze.

Not that Mike’s ever _been_ anywhere with warm sand and tropical air. But it still feels like paradise. 

Appropriate, really, given the beautiful young woman sitting in the sand not 50 feet away. Her feet, as bare as his, are planted in the high edge of the surf, ocean water lapping at her toes with each rushing wave. The simple white shift dress she’s wearing rustles with the breeze, hem fluttering around her knees and calves in the wind. Wisps of her hair, chestnut strands gleaming in the starlight that illuminates the beach, float in the air and brush along her neck and shoulder blades. 

She’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and she’s waiting for _him,_ the intimate evening air and the promise of her company _(and maybe more)_ beckoning him forward. 

God, the sight of her is a balm for Mike’s overworked nerves. It’s been… not the best week.

Hell, if Mike is being honest, it hasn’t been the best _year,_ what with his parents’ divorce and getting used to splitting his time between two houses. But the last few days have been particularly frustrating. 

Simply put, he’s been fighting with the rest of the Party.

Well… fighting isn’t exactly the _right_ word. More like he blew up at Dustin and Lucas at lunch on Monday in a way that was maybe a little _(a lot)_ of an over-reaction.

They’d been teasing him again for not showing any interest in anyone romantically, pointing out that he was the last one of the Party to have his first kiss – that even Will, given the utter lack of other gay guys in Hawkins, had checked off that particular milestone. 

Mike didn’t know what to say – how does one even explain that the only girl he needs is the one he sees after he falls asleep each night? – and he’d tried to ignore their teasing jibes. 

But then Dustin had pushed just a little too hard, throwing out “What are you waiting for, anyway? It’s not like the girl of your dreams is just going to walk in any moment.”

It stung. It stung _hard._ It was the raw nerve hiding in plain sight and Dustin hit right on it without knowing what he was doing.

So, naturally, Mike blew up at him – because if Dustin was going to go over the line, then Mike wasn’t going to let his friend be the only one who was _wrong._ Lucas rushed to come to Dustin’s defense, so Mike let both of them have it, saying that they didn’t know what they were talking about and that they should “shut the fuck up”.

And now no one’s talking. Well, Mike thinks that Dustin and Lucas are probably still talking. But Will’s been playing Switzerland and has declared that he isn’t talking to _any of them_ until they work it out and apologize to each other.

Mike knows he big time overreacted. But he also knows that Dustin and then Lucas shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. So all sides really do have to apologize and Mike isn’t going to duck out of his responsibility in all this. 

But he knows when he does, that he’s not going to be able to avoid explaining why Dustin’s words got him all worked up, that he’s going to have to come clean and tell them about the dreams. And despite the fact that he just turned 17 and has been having these dreams for almost 6 years, he’s not entirely ready to do that. 

There’s no getting out of it, not this time. And it really is about time he told someone, _anyone,_ about these dreams. 

That’s a problem for a different time, though. Right now, Mike has a pretty girl waiting for him and he doesn’t intend to keep her waiting any longer. 

He goes to her, letting her presence reel him in. The light breeze pulls at the white button-up shirt and linen pants he’s wearing, sleeves and pants rolled up to expose his forearms and calves, but it’s too warm to make him shiver. It feels nice, like a gentle caress, and something in Mike’s chest unwinds at the feeling.

She looks over at him as he sits down in the loose sand and the smile she gives him is bright enough to light up the whole night. “There you are,” she says. Her voice is like honey and _this_ is what makes him shiver, the feeling of her voice wrapping around him.

“Here I am.” Mike smiles back at her as his gaze dances across her face, lovely and inviting. “Missed you.”

She giggles and ducks away from him for just a moment, smile turning shy yet pleased. “Missed you, too.” 

It’s crazy just how _flirty_ that little move is… and how it gets him every, single time. Yearning swells inside of him, pushing up against his heart and lungs until he’s sure his heart is going to stop beating and lungs stop drawing in air. Mike reaches for her before he can stop himself. Her hair’s fallen in front of her face a little and he tucks it back behind her ear. But instead of pulling away, he lets his touch trail along her jaw until the side of his crooked finger presses against the underside of her chin.

Gently, Mike pushes up against her chin, nudging her face up towards his as he leans over. Her lips part against his in a surprised gasp as he kisses her in a sudden, needy motion, but the purring moan she lets out against his mouth gives away the truth of her feelings.

Instead of being soothed, that ball of yearning pitting in his chest turns into a roaring wildfire – hot and all-consuming – and Mike can’t resist the way his mouth slants even harder against hers. 

God, he needs this – needs _her._ And with the way she kisses him back, Mike can tell she feels the same way about him. Her hand comes up to rest against his chest, right above his rapidly beating heart. If she cares about how fast his heart is beating, she doesn’t show it. 

It’s just as well since Mike can’t think too far beyond the feeling of her hand through the thin fabric of his shirt, skin buzzing against the linen, fingers stroking his chest in concert with the way her lips move against his. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time. 

She pulls away first and Mike chases her lips with his, unwilling to stop, until physics and biology make chasing her all the way impossible unless he wants to roll over on top of her. 

Which, truth be told, doesn’t sound like the worst idea… at some point in the evening, at any rate. Mike figures there’s about a 50/50 chance into this dream turning into one of _those_ dreams and excitement races in his veins at the possibility. 

_(This is how part of Mike is convinced these dreams are nothing more than radical fantasies, that she is just a figment of his overworked imagination. Girls like her – smart, sweet, gorgeous – don’t look at him twice, never mind anything more… anything **intimate**. But this is his subconscious and here, a girl like her is willing and eager to be with a guy like him. It’s why it’s called a “fantasy”.) _

For a moment, she just looks up at him, the air between them heavy and full of meaning as the sound of the gently roaring surf wraps around them. Occasionally, the water laps against Mike’s toes, but he’s too busy staring down into her eyes to care. 

Then, she smiles at him, hints of mischief at the edges of her smile. “Well, hi there,” she says with a giggle in her voice. “That was quite the hello.”

Mike’s heart does this weird beat-skipping flip thing and it’s 100% because of the flirty suggestion in her voice. It makes him _want_ and the feeling burns in his veins. “Yeah, well, I missed you. And kissing you always makes me feel better.”

Her smile dims and her gaze turns concerned. “Feel better? Why would you need to feel better? Everything ok?”

Mike cringes at his unintentional word choice and he knows the jig is up – he can’t ever hide anything from her. “Just… my friends and I – we got in a fight and we’re kinda not talking.”

Her lips press together in a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that. What was the fight about?”

“Girls and stuff.” Mike shakes his head with a rueful laugh. “I wish you could always be with me. Would make things so much easier.”

“I wish I could always be with you, too,” she says. Her hand comes up from his chest to cup his cheek. The softness of her palm against his face is heavenly. “But I’m always with you even when I’m not physically there. Here – ” Her finger taps gently against his temple. “And here.” Her hand goes back to his chest, hand right over his heart. “I’ll never leave you.”

Mike’s soul lights up with fireworks of emotions, skin alighting with warm tingles that make him shiver with their intensity. Need hits him, soul-deep and endless, and his breath hitches in an near sob. 

He pulls her to him, needing her closer, ever closer. She goes easily, letting him pull her on top of him so that her knees plant themselves in the sand on either side of his hips. The sweet press of her weight on top of him is _everything,_ warm and thrilling and comforting all at once.

Her hands go to his shoulders to steady herself and she’s looking down at him with such sweet and open emotion, Mike almost can’t breathe from the force of it. “I love you,” he says, unable to hold the words back. It’s a truth he has taken pains to avoid as much as possible. He doesn’t want to love this girl, this impossible wish his subconscious has put together to drive him crazy. 

But it’s too late. The heart wants what the heart wants and he wants her, only her.

She stares at him, face frozen in shock, but it only lasts half a heartbeat before she smiles at him, brighter than the sun and twice as warm. “I love you, too.” She leans forward so that her forehead is resting against his and Mike nuzzles her forehead with his before returning the touch. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“So don’t,” he says, the words spoken barely loud enough to be heard over the ocean. “Stay with me forever.” It’s another impossible wish, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting it with all his heart.

She shifts against him, head tilting at just the right angle as her nose rubs against his. And, right before their lips meet and talking becomes wholly unnecessary, her whispered words fall against his lips with the sweetest caress. “Always and forever.”

* * *

  
_(“...wait, so let me get this straight: you’re saying that you’ve been having very real feeling dreams about a girl every night for 6 years and you’re **just** telling us now? Am I hearing that right?” _

_Mike nods. “Yeah, Dustin, you heard me right.”_

_Dustin lets out a breath that sounds like a tire deflating. “Ok, wow. Damn. Are you, like, going crazy or something?”_

_“Believe me, I’ve wondered about that so many times,” Mike says with a roll of his eyes. “But I don’t think I’d know if I was going crazy.” He looks over at Lucas and Will. “Have I been going crazy?”_

_Will shrugs and Lucas shakes his head. “Not that I’ve noticed,” Lucas says. “This girl, though… have you ever met her?”_

_“No.” Mike has to look away as his chest squeezes painfully._

_“Well, maybe you’ve seen her,” Will says. “I think I read somewhere that the people we dream about are people we’ve seen in real life.”_

_“Yeah, I think if I saw her, I’d remember,” Mike says with a snort._

_This makes Dustin grin. “So, I take it she’s hot, then?”_

_Mike reaches out and smacks Dustin on the arm. “Dammit, Dustin!”_

_Dustin ducks away, but he’s smiling and chortling the entire time. “Hey, I figured I’d ask.”)_

* * *

  
Warmth has spread over every inch of her skin, carried by the honeyed satisfaction that floats through her veins. The thin covers draped over her feel like they’re made from air and do nothing to distract from the fact that she is completely and unashamedly naked.

But the coup d’grace, as it were, is the arm wrapped around her, the warm weight pressed against her. It’s _him,_ equally as undressed as she is, holding her close while she lays draped across him – one leg thrown over his, her arm sprawled out over his chest so her hand rests lightly on his sternum. 

This is where the dream starts. Or, at least, this is the moment El’s aware that she’s dreaming. Clearly, the more active portion of her subconscious is tuning in after the main action has already taken place, leaving her luxuriating in the aftermath. A little annoying, but it happens sometimes.

The important thing, though, is that she’s with him and the feeling of him holding her close is _everything._

Which makes the guilt churning in her stomach all the more nauseating.

 _It was just one date, one kiss. And I didn’t even **like** it, _ she reminds herself for what feels like the millionth time. But, still, the feeling of guilt remains. 

Frankly, it’s ridiculous. All she did was go to her Senior Prom with a guy who asked her (after she said yes on Max’s urging) and he kissed her goodnight when he dropped her off at home. It was a sweet gesture, if misguided – but El _did_ have fun all things considered. 

Even if she didn’t get to go to her Senior Prom with the guy she _really_ wanted to go with, the one who she’s convinced more and more each day is a total figment of her imagination. 

So how is it that she feels like she’s betrayed someone she made up?

The heart is a funny thing, though. Even though she knows the boy with the beautiful freckles isn’t real, she still feels like she’s gone behind his back anyway and her heart _aches_ at the thought. 

But, there’s something else this has taught her: no one makes her feel like the guy of her dreams. Though the kiss Jake Masters gave her was nice, that’s _all_ it was. It didn’t make her soul sing, didn’t make her feel like she was floating on a cloud of pure bliss, didn’t make her heart race staccato-fast in her chest with the excitement of what might come _after_ a kiss. 

It’s making her realize that she might _never_ find a guy in real life who compares to the guy of her dreams. And El won’t lie: there was part of her that was avoiding having to figure this out… and she’s a little mad at Max for forcing her to come to grips with it before she was ready by pressuring her into accepting Jake’s invitation to Prom.

It’s totally and completely irrational, El knows. She can’t live in dreamland for the rest of her life, can’t put her life on hold for the world inside her head. She’s got college and becoming an adult and a whole world out there waiting for her. She can’t let her whole life revolve around this ridiculous fantasy, no matter how amazing it is. 

But, oh, how she wishes she could. 

El’s thoughts have pulled her very far from what’s going on right in front of her and she only realizes just how lost in her own thoughts she got when she feels him shift against her. He turns his head and presses a soft kiss to the crown of her hair, startling her back to the present. “Hey, having a good trip?”

“Sorry, what?” El’s words are spoken on the trail end of a gasp. 

“It’s like you’re a million miles away. Must be quite a journey.” The humor in the words makes his voice almost purr, rumbling in his chest like a big jungle cat. El loves the tenor of it vibrating against her ear, loves how it makes her shiver and makes heat pool low in her belly. She just loves _him,_ really, and everything about him.

El breathes out a giggle that’s tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking.” That she was thinking about going out with another guy while the guy she’s in love with is holding her causes no end of discomfort.

“Whatcha thinking about? I want in on the secret.” He punctuates his point by squeezing her waist in a way that makes her squirm and squeak. 

El wants to tell him about Prom, about going with Jake. The words are right there on the tip of her tongue, all ready to confess. But, when she does open her mouth, what comes out is this: “Nothing, just… wondering if we’re always going to have this, if it’s always going to be you and me in here forever.”

A brief, tense pause, and then…. “Would you ever want it to be anything different?” he asks. 

There’s a thread of concern in his voice and it spurs her into lifting her head to look at him, weight resting on her elbow propped up beneath her. “No, _no,”_ El says, hurrying to reassure. “At least, not in the way you’re meaning.” It’s true. The only thing she wishes was different was that she could be with him when they’re awake. But that would mean he’d have to be real, so…. “It’s just I miss you when I’m not here. I want to be with you _all the time.”_

He smiles at her and reaches up for her, hand cupping her cheek. “Do you remember what you told me? On the beach? That you’re always with me no matter what? Well, I’m always with you, too.”

El nods, the memory hitting her with a painful pang right in the heart. “I remember,” she says, whisper soft, voice choking up with emotion. “I’m just worried. So much is changing. We’re going off to college and starting our lives and I don’t want to lose you.” El thinks about the acceptance letter to University of Chicago sitting on her desk and the apartment listings she has saved on her computer for her and Max to look over. She thinks about how she’s going to be moving away from home in less than 4 months to a place where _nothing_ is familiar, where _he_ will be one of the only things she’s almost positive she can count on to still be there.

It’s a scary thought, relying on a dream for comfort – like it’s the start of a slippery slope into losing touch with reality all together.

 _This_ is what’s really bothering her. Not that she went to the prom with a guy she doesn’t really like as more than a friend or that Jake kissed her. But that the only guy she wants is the one she can’t have and, in her heart, she wouldn’t have it any other way, that she doesn’t think she’ll ever _want_ anyone else. And she thinks, someday, living like this is going to drive her insane.

“That doesn’t mean change is bad,” he says. “Did you ever think that it could bring us closer together? Really, all of this could be the best thing to ever happen to us.”

El isn’t sure what he means by “all of this” and she’s too afraid to ask. But the reassurance helps (despite how crazy it will sound in the harsh light of day) and she smiles at him. “You’re so sure of this, of _us._ I don’t know how you do it.”

He gives a lazy shrug, one shoulder moving against the soft, white sheets around them. “It’s easy,” he says with a crooked grin, the one that looks devastatingly handsome on him. “I love you and that’s all I need.”

El’s heart always skips a beat when he tells her that he loves her – _every. single. time._ – and she feels that familiar fluttery feeling in her heart and stomach. “I love you, too. It scares me, but I love you more than I can say.”

He starts pulling her back towards him, the warmth in his eyes making her shiver with its intensity. “Show me, then,” he whispers. “Show me how much you love me.”

Her lips crash down onto his in a gasping kiss before she has a chance to pull in a full breath, so eager she is to show him, and she whimpers against his mouth as she pours herself into the kiss, into _him._ It doesn’t take her long to lose herself in his mouth and hands, in the way he touches her, in the way he makes her feel, to the point where she never wants to wake up if this is how she’ll always feel.

And she tries, so _very_ hard, not to hate herself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this! I'm not sure when the last part is going to be out (though I know mostly know how it's all going to go). But I can't predict how my job's going to be over the next couple of weeks, so I don't want to make any promises. 
> 
> Until then, have a good one and stay safe everyone!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of another fic! Thank you all for continuing to stick with me as we navigate through this long, painful hiatus. I love and appreciate all the comments and kudos I get from you guys - it honestly keeps me going and I go back and re-read all your comments when my motivation needs a boost. So _thank you_. You are all wonderful people, and I love you all and this fandom _so much!_
> 
> And, as always, I hope you enjoy this! <3

There’s something about Chicago that just feels _right._ Mike isn’t sure what it is, exactly. There’s a bajillion more people; the weather is crazier than anything at home; and being on his own (relatively speaking) with the amount of freedom at his fingertips is daunting.

But, still, there’s something about this city that just sets Mike at ease, like he’s right where he belongs.

Yeah, ok, sure, there’s this niggling sensation that there’s something he’s forgetting, something that he should be waiting for, but given the relative weirdness in the rest of his life, it’s not something that has stood out enough for Mike to pay attention to. 

And, boy, does he know a thing or two about weirdness.

Though so much of his life has changed over the past year – graduating high school, moving out of the house, heading off to Northwestern for college – there are a few things that have stayed the same.

He’s still best friends with the Party, all of them having migrated to the Chicago area for school – Dustin and Lucas with Mike at Northwestern and Will at the Art Institute; he’s still just as tall and gangly as he was in high school….

And he’s still dreaming about _her._

Yeah, the slim hope Mike had that it was something in the air in Hawkins driving his nightly dreams about the most beautiful, nameless girl he’s ever seen were cruelly dashed that first night in the dorms where he dreamed about her like nothing had changed. 

It’s enough to make him want to cry.

Mike feels like he’s slowly going crazy. God, what he wouldn’t give for some measure of control over what’s happening to him. It’s not that he doesn’t love dreaming about her – it’s that his heart doesn’t remember it’s not real once he wakes up. Maybe if he had some say when he has the dreams – or at least stop having them _every night_ – it would help him either hold on to a firm grasp of reality or delay what feels like the inevitable slide into insanity. 

Mike feels like he’s at the end of what options he has available to him to try and exert some sense of control over his dreaming mind. He’s read no end of books about dreams; he’s tried meditation… heck, he’s even tried _yoga_ (just don’t ask him to tell the story of how embarrassing that attempt was). 

The only thing Mike hasn’t tried is talking to a professional, but he knows he won’t unless he absolutely _has_ to, until the fear of actually going crazy outweighs the fear that if he tells a psychiatrist, he’ll be locked up in a padded room for the rest of his life regardless of whether he feels crazy or not.

So, until he reaches some sort of breaking point, Mike is stuck with these dreams, torn between his heart and his head over whether they’re a good thing.

_At least they’re **good** dreams, _ he tells himself as he wanders through the dream version of Northwestern’s campus. There’s a curious sensation that Mike feels wash over him that lets him know that he’s dreaming, a certain floaty feeling in the back of his head. After almost 8 years of these dreams, Mike’s become really good at knowing in an instant whether he’s dreaming or not.

So he doesn’t have to wonder whether he’s dreaming – he _knows_ he is.

She’s nowhere in sight, but she will be soon. Of that, Mike has no doubt.

The campus is empty of people, twilight ruling the sky, and the horizon up ahead is dominated by water, the ever present Lake Michigan swallowing up the scenery for as far as the eye can see.

It’s one of Mike’s favorite things about going to school at Northwestern – that the campus is right on the water. There’s a little peninsula that juts out into the lake with walking paths and benches dotting the grass that stretches over it. It’s become a familiar haunting ground of his, somewhere he can go and just _be._ Sometimes he spends what feels like hours staring out across the lake, the sun having long set behind him, as he gets lost in his own thoughts. 

It’s also where he’s heading right now. And, with the whole campus completely free of people (given that it’s his dream and all), the bench at the very end, the one that looks out towards the lake, is completely unoccupied.

Mike doesn’t sit down on the bench, though. He sits down on the ground in front of it, leaning back against it as his legs stretch out in front of him. 

And, here, he waits, sitting in silence until….

“You’re late.” His words leave him even before he’s fully registered the sounds of footsteps walking towards him. But, there they are: the sound of muffled footsteps on the grass, footsteps that could only belong to one person.

Mike looks over at her just in time to see her smiling sheepishly. She’s dressed in jeans and a thin, loose sweater – mindful of the cool, early spring weather – and her hair’s pulled back in a half ponytail.

_Beautiful,_ his mind whispers at him. Just the sight of her robs him of the ability to breathe, even if for just a couple of seconds.

“Sorry, did I miss it?” she asks as she rushes over to him.

Mike grins and reaches for her, hand outstretched as she gets within feet of him. “Not yet. But you’re cutting it close.” His voice is full of gentle teasing and when her hand entwines with his, his heart buzzes and skips a couple of beats.

Mike pulls her towards him, making her almost lose her balance as he all but forces her to bend over so he can tilt his head up and kiss her. His other hand slips up into her hair to hold her close and something in him crumbles at the feeling of silk beneath his touch.

She giggles against his mouth, but she surrenders into the kiss, her lips full and warm, _lush_ against his. Kissing her feels like an indulgence he never gets tired of and every fiber of his being calls out for _more._

He lets go of her hand so he can snake his arm around her waist and he pulls her down to him. The kiss breaks and she lets out a bright, sparkling giggle that fills the air around them with effervescence. She settles into his lap almost immediately and her arms come up to rest on his shoulders. “I don’t think this is the right position for stargazing,” she says, tone teasingly prim, even though her eyes are full of happy mischief.

“Well, then, what’s it the right position _for?”_ Mike’s grinning like a fool and there’s nothing that can stop it.

She snorts, but she’s still laughing. “Smooth,” she says drolly, punctuated by a roll of her eyes. She leans closer and brushes her nose against his. “There’ll be time for that later… if you’re lucky.”

_And if the dream doesn’t cut itself short,_ Mike thinks, which is a different kind of luck than the one she’s talking about. But, still, he smiles up at her, mollified. “Sorry, I’m just teasing,” he says.

She presses a soft kiss against his lips, nothing more than a gentle peck. “I know. That’s why I love you.”

His heart squeezes at the casual utterance of those words. “Why, because I make inappropriate jokes?”

“No, because you would never pressure me,” she says as she readjusts herself in his lap. Mike’s knees part so she can sit between his outstretched legs and his arms go around her waist as easy as breathing.

“Never,” Mike says emphatically, repulsed at the idea of doing anything close to what she’s suggesting. “I love you.”

She leans back, full pressed against his chest, and brushes a kiss against the underside of his jaw. “See? You’re sweet.” She lowers her head just enough so she can look out at the scenery in front of them, the vibrant dark pinks and oranges from earlier having given way to the deep purples that signal the start of night… _and_ of stargazing. “God, I love it out here,” she says. “The lake is so beautiful. It feels like home.”

The words resonate deep in Mike’s chest. “I feel the same way,” he says, whisper soft, and he turns his head so he can press a light kiss against her temple, her skin soft and warm beneath his lips.

She melts against him, letting out a deeply relaxed sigh – the kind of sigh associated with bubble baths and sinking into bed at the end of the day, a sigh of pure and utter contentment.

For a moment, they’re just quiet, happy enough to just _be_ with each other, soaking in each other’s presence. The need monster in his chest, the one that craves her nearness at every moment of every day, quiets down and settles with a rumbling purr. 

Mike doesn’t want anything else than this. And in this moment, he doesn’t care if he’s on the unavoidable road to going crazy. As long as he has her, in whatever way he can get, he’s happy. And if he’s happy, even if only in his dreams, so what if he’s crazy, right?

_Right?_

She lets out another sigh and shifts against him as she looks up at the sky that has slipped fully into a starry night sky. “So, what are we looking at?”

Mike grins and lets one arm hold her even tighter while he points up at the sky with the other. “Well, if you look over there, you can see….”

* * *

  
_We make choices every day. Some of these choices are big and rearrange the landscape of the game at play – Mike choosing Northwestern, El deciding on University of Chicago, both of them finally, **finally** in the same place. _

_Most of the time, the decisions we make are small, often ones that have little consequence._

_But sometimes, though, there are decisions we make in life that feel small in the moment, yet turn out to have life-altering ramifications. Sometimes, we don’t have to wait long to see what those ramifications are, but sometimes it takes years to understand the impact of our choices, even for choices that don’t feel very big… even for choices made by someone else._

_This choice is one of those._

_And though El isn’t involved in what’s about to happen, though she most definitely is the cause of it…._

* * *

  
It’s the summer between El’s freshman and sophomore year of college and Hopper is on his way to Chicago to pick El up so she can spend a couple of weeks at home during her summer break.

Hopper’s feeling victorious. He and El had spent days going back and forth over how she was going to get back to Indianapolis – she argued that she could just take a bus, but Hop was insistent that he could just as easily come and pick her up in Chicago and drive both of them home. “It’s not like you’re in Outer Mongolia, you know,” he’d argued over the phone a couple of days ago. “We’ll make a thing of it on the way back home – like a mini road trip! Plus, this way, you’ll save the money you would have spent on a bus ticket.”

El had been silent for a long moment before she let out that quiet, forceful sigh of hers, the one she let out when she was resigned to something. “Ok, fine, you can come pick me up.” Her tone was carefully flat with wry amusement, but Hopper could hear the happiness in her voice.

His daughter is a study in contrasts – strong, yet delicate; headstrong, yet reserved. Feminine and beautiful without being overly girly and fiercely independent while clinging close to the people she’s chosen to let into her life. She doesn’t let many people in, but she lets herself be free with the ones who are lucky enough to receive an invitation to see behind the curtain.

And, man, has Hopper missed her. Though he knows she’s an adult now and going off to college and living on her own is a vital step in the road to growing up, he’s missed having her quiet presence around the house, missed having father-daughter Sundays or going out for ice cream in the middle of week.

The knowledge that he’s a few short hours from seeing her has Hopper in an incredibly good mood.

And that good mood is the only explanation for what Hopper does when he approaches the road that leads to Hawkins, the town where he grew up.

Almost every time he’s driven past this way – and it’s been a fair number of times, what with El living out in Chicago for the past year and all – he’s barely even given the turn a second thought. Hawkins wasn’t really somewhere he’d been hankering to go back to, all things considered. Yeah, it wasn’t too bad of a place to grow up, looking back on it, but for a variety of reasons, he’d been eager to get out and move on after he graduated from high school. 

And that’s exactly what he did. The ink had barely been dry on his high school diploma before Jim Hopper booked it out of Hawkins. He tried living out in New York for a few years, but the city was _too_ big. The only good thing that came from it was meeting Terry, if only because he ended up with the most amazing daughter anyone could ever ask for.

So, not wanting to move back home _and_ seeing as how Terry’s family was from Indianapolis and the two of them were thinking of settling down to have a family of their own, they moved to Indianapolis. It was convenient – Hopper’s parents moved out that way to be closer to their granddaughter – and it was just enough of a city for Hopper to still feel like he’d escaped. 

And, until now, he’d never felt the pull to go back to Hawkins, _at all._ But he’s in a good mood and is just the right amount of susceptible to the wave of nostalgia that washes over him. 

It’s not like he doesn’t have time to make a stop, Hopper reasons – he _did_ put in some buffer time and time to stop and eat something when he told El what time to expect him. So there’s nothing to stop him from taking that turn and he does it gladly.

Hopper figures he’ll just drive through the town, see what’s changed – or what’s _not_ changed, if he knows Hawkins. He’ll be in and out in less than 20 minutes. And that’s almost exactly what happens.

But then, he sees Joyce Byers. And _everything_ changes.

* * *

  
It may have taken 20 years, but it’s official:

El Hopper does _not_ like change. 

Ok, wait. Maybe that’s a little bit of an overstatement.

El knows change is necessary – _good,_ even at times. Hell, when it’s something she _wants_ to happen, change can even be amazing. Like choosing to move to Chicago for college or becoming friends with Max.

But when El doesn’t get a choice? Well, that’s where things get a bit shaky. When she’s faced with a change that’s forced on her, she essentially clams up and starts playing the “wait and see” game. 

Sometimes she ends up accepting the change and moving on with her life. This is, essentially, what happened with the dreams she’s had every night for 9 years. They’re not something she chose, but they’re something she’s logically come to accept (even though her heart is still, as ever, giddily in love with the boy who’s grown up to be the literal man of her dreams). 

But, at other times, El has to be dragged kicking and screaming into accepting a change – which, on her, means she pouts and sulks until she runs out of energy. This is how she usually reacts when some outside force threatens to rearrange the things in her life she relies on. 

Which should tell you how she reacts when she hears that her dad is moving back to his tiny ass hometown because of an old flame that isn’t actually so old any more. _I think the word is ‘rekindled’,_ the more rational portion of her mind tries to point out. 

But El isn’t having any of it. When it comes to her and the people she holds close to her, El is cautious by nature (the best word she’s ever seen that describes her when it comes to this kind of stuff is ‘reticent’, but that word always feels a little pretentious, so ‘cautious’ it is).

And it’s not that she isn’t happy for her dad – she _is._ It just feels like it’s all moving so fast. _Too_ fast.

It was one thing when her dad told her over Thanksgiving that he’d started dating a woman he’d used to know after he drove through the town he grew up in. Then, he was still living in Indianapolis, even though his girlfriend lived in a tiny town called Hawkins (which El had to look up on the map to figure out where it is).

But was a whole other thing when he told her the following March that he was _moving_ back to Hawkins to take over as Police Chief… _and_ so he could be with his new-old girlfriend. 

But El’s not an idiot. She knows it’s only a matter of time before this new woman – _Joyce,_ she reminds herself. _Her name is Joyce_ – isn’t just her dad’s girlfriend, but El’s step-mom, too. 

El is officially convinced of this when Hop calls and tells her that he and Joyce are coming out for a weekend to Chicago during El’s spring break to spend time not just with her, but also with Joyce’s son, who also apparently goes to school out in Chicago. 

“I just thought it’d be nice if we all met and got to know each other better,” Hop says during one of their usual phone calls. “And Joyce agrees with me. She’s dying to meet you.”

El isn’t entirely sure she feels the same, but she doesn’t want to tell her dad that. “Well, it is tradition for the child to meet their parent’s new significant other at some point, I suppose.” There’s a wry undertone of humor in her words and it helps hide any reservation she’s feeling in the moment.

So, with plans made for a couple weeks later, El finds herself counting down the days until she’s all but forced to meet two new people and has to figure out how they’re going to fit into her life….

All the while trying _desperately_ not to be nervous about it.

This tangled anxiety works its way into almost every moment of her day to the point where she’s only free in her dreams.

And, _boy,_ does she ever take advantage of that.

* * *

  
The sky is awash in gentle vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple, making the fluffy clouds that float up high in the sky above look like cotton candy. And there’s a delicate breeze that dances in the air, carrying the last of the day’s warmth and promising the coolness of night to follow. 

Spring evenings in Chicago are just _gorgeous._ And one of El’s favorite places to experience them is in the botanical gardens just off campus.

There’s a magic in the air that, under normal circumstances, El wishes would last forever. But that’s the thing about dreams: the magic _already_ never ends.

Besides, there are _other_ things El would rather focus on. The gardens around her are entirely empty of people _(it’s her dream – they can all fuck off),_ which makes it easier to be consumed by _him._

El’s awash in a sea of sensation: the glide of silk sheets against the bare skin of her legs; the lush cushion of down beneath her, cradling her; the tickle of sheer curtains against the backs of her calves….

The whisper of his hand stroking up and down her spine through the thin shift she’s wearing, making her shiver with each pass he makes; the heat of his limbs entwining with hers, holding her close like he never wants to let go.

But, god, what _really_ has her ensnared, caught up with no way of getting free, is his _mouth._ Hot against hers, lips soft and full, teasing hers with long, lingering kisses full of unhurried promise, kisses that can go anywhere _(and often do)_ but are more concerned with the journey and not the destination.

They’re the kisses of gentle and loving passion, all-consuming in the best way possible, and El never, _ever_ wants them to stop.

His mouth leaves hers, but before El can even think of complaining, he begins a trail of kisses that lead up the line of her jaw to the sweep of her neck – tiny, whispering little kisses that make her gasp and giggle and hold on tight so she doesn’t drown beneath the sensations that go off like fireworks across her every nerve ending.

But when he gets to the patch of skin where her neck meets her shoulder, his nose brushes against her in a way that more tickles than anything and she instinctively curves away, giggling out right the entire time. “Sorry, ticklish,” she says through her mirth as he pulls away.

He pulls far enough away so he can look down at her and she gasps as his face comes into view. Time has aged him from a beautiful boy to a devastatingly handsome young man, all sweeping cheekbones and a strong jawline and piercing, dark eyes. It’s those eyes that are looking down at her with awe and love so powerful, it actually takes her breath away.

This is it, she realizes. This is _perfection._ She’s in a gorgeous park, luxuriating on a 4-poster bed wrapped in silk and feather-down as the sun glacially slides towards evening, and she has the attention of the most wonderful guy in the entire universe, the guy who makes her body light up and her heart sing, who treats her with such reverence that it makes her want to cry from sheer happiness.

_Oh, why does she **ever** have to wake up? Can’t she just stay here forever? _

A smile graces his beautiful mouth as his gaze dances across her face, one hand coming up so he can tuck wayward strands of hair back behind her ear. “Whatcha thinking about?” he asks, voice yearningly sweet. It’s like she holds the key to the secrets of the universe, the way he asks about her, and El’s heart just melts from the overload of emotions that realization sparks inside of her.

El sighs and wishes she didn’t feel a little wistful as she responds. “I wish we could be here forever. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” And she really doesn’t. The world out there is too much, changing and morphing and forcing her to change with it. But in here is everything she wants, everything she craves, and she just wants to wrap herself up in it and never come out.

His whole face softens, looking as overwhelmed as she feels. “Me neither,” he says. “I love you so much.”

El’s breath hitches, catching dangerously in her throat, and her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. “I love you, forever.” She reaches for him, palm cupping his cheek. “Kiss me?” She needs this, needs _him_ and only him, forever and ever.

“Always,” he answers, voice barely a whisper, before his mouth touches back to hers and El lets herself stop thinking once more.

* * *

  
_Turns out, like a lot of things, not all change is bad, a lesson El **swears** she’ll remember to learn for next time. _

_During spring break, El meets up with Hop for dinner and lets him introduce her to Joyce and Joyce’s son, Will. Joyce is sweet in the fiercest kind of way El’s ever seen in another person and all of El’s reservations melt away like the morning fog when she sees the way Hop looks at Joyce. There’s a happiness in his eyes El hasn’t seen in years that softens his roughest edges. And, if she’s not mistaken, Joyce looks back at Hop with the same level of happiness._

_This fact doesn’t go unnoticed not only by her, but Will as well. And, though neither of them are the most talkative people in the world, she feels a sense of kinship with him, like a gentle, tiny tug on the corner of her soul. They exchange looks that acknowledge the extreme likelihood that their parents just might be in this for the long haul and it’s a little like El’s just gained a partner in crime._

_But just because neither of them are particularly talkative doesn’t mean they don’t talk at all. El discovers that Will goes to the Chicago Art Institute and that he lives in northern Chicago with his three childhood best friends, who all trek up to Evanston to go to Northwestern. He also hints at a possible boyfriend, a guy from one of his classes he’s kinda seeing, and El all but coos at the sweet shyness in his voice._

_She returns the favor by telling Will about University of Chicago and about the apartment not too far from campus that she shares with Max. She doesn’t mention a guy of her own because there **is** no guy… at least, not one that’s real. _

_They eventually get a little into their hobbies– games with his friends for him, reading for her, that segues into a somewhat lengthy discussion of Lord of the Rings – and it’s not long until the dinner’s over and it’s time for everyone to go their separate ways._

_Will and El promise to hang out some time – another acknowledgment that their parents’ relationship might just be a permanent thing and that the two kids should probably get to know each other better – so they exchange phone numbers with promises of figuring out a time soon. El heads home, happy that her dad seems to have found someone who makes him happy_ **_and_ ** _that she may have made a new friend, which she doesn’t have many of._

_And, all the while, she is **completely** unaware that the improbable, **impossible** trajectory her life is on has just kicked into overdrive. _

* * *

  
There’s the muffled, rustling sound of the front door unlocking and Mike turns away from the movie he’s watching with Dustin and Lucas in time to see Will open the front door. “Hey guys,” Will says as he steps inside.

“Hey, how’d it go with your mom?” Dustin asks as he pauses the movie.

Will shrugs as he closes the door and shucks off his jacket. “Pretty good, I guess. Officially met her boyfriend.”

“What’s he like?” Mike asks, scooting over on the couch to give Will space to sit down.

“Big,” Will says with a small laugh. “He’s a cop – actually, he’s the Police Chief back in Hawkins, now.” He shrugs. “I dunno, he’s nice. Seems to really like my mom.”

Lucas laughs. “So, we don’t have to figure out how to scare him away. That’s good.” Mike nods, agreeing. There’s a soft spot in all of their hearts for Mrs. Byers, who always welcomed the rest of the Party into her home like they were all her kids. If this new boyfriend was bad news, they’d be on it in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, so we can scrap all those plans,” Will says. “He brought his daughter with him, which helped. Made him less scary to see him acting like a dad.”

“Daughter?” Dustin asks, curious eyebrow arching leadingly. Mike lets out a groan – Dustin’s an exhausting kind of girl-crazy sometimes.

At that, Will lets out a full laugh. “Yeah, she’s our age, goes to UoC.” He looks at Dustin with a dry, withering expression. “And you can stop it right there, Henderson. El’s nice, but she’s completely out of your league.”

The back of Mike’s neck prickles when Will says her name, but he easily ignores it – it’s so far away from the weirdest thing to ever happen to him that it barely even registers. “Sounds like you made a friend,” Mike says.

“Yeah, it was nice,” Will says with a grin. “She’s kinda quiet, but sweet. And we spent about 15 minutes talking about Lord of the Rings until our parents complained.”

“Ooh, a nerd. _Nice,”_ Dustin says, smiling.

“Yeah, it _was_ nice.” Will shrugs. “We’ll probably hang out sometime soonish. It’s pretty like this thing with our parents isn’t going away maybe ever, so it doesn’t hurt to make friends with the girl who might be my stepsister one day. Who knows, maybe I’ll even invite her to hang out with us.”

“As long as Dustin promises not to scare her off,” Lucas says, snickering.

Everyone else starts laughing while Dustin scowls. And when the laughter dies down, they settle back in to keep watching the movie that’s still paused on the TV screen.

_The Party hanging out with a girl, huh?_ Mike thinks as he settles in, new girl all but forgotten. _What **will** they think of next…. _

* * *

  
Hammocks, Mike decides, are _awesome_ and he’s wondering how it’s taken him 20 years to figure this out. 

The hammock he’s currently in is wide and shallow, kinda like a rowboat. The shape plus the fact that it’s lined with soft, plush cushions leaves Mike feeling like he’s being cradled by a cloud. 

One end of the hammock is tied to a large oak tree, branches stretching out above and shielding him from the sun up high in the sky. The other end is held up by a post sticking out of the water of a lake that stretches out for as far as the eye can see in all directions, glassy stillness acting as a mirror for the radiantly blue sky above. 

In fact, except for the tree, the little island it’s on, and the hammock itself, Mike could be convinced that the entire world was this still, serene lake. Occasionally, a gentle breeze glides on by and it makes the hammock rock just enough to be soothing. 

All in all, it’s one of the most transcendentally relaxing experiences Mike’s ever had.

Though Mike readily admits that the woman lying next to him is most likely the main reason why he’s so relaxed right now, so at peace.

Mike is well aware of the mind-blowing, gorgeous views around him, but he can’t look away from the sight in front of him, not for _anything._

Her eyes are closed as they relax under the shade of a giant oak tree and the smile on her face is beyond content. She has one hand reaching out to rest lightly against his chest and the lush, full volume of her hair spills against her neck and shoulders, contrasting nicely with the straps of the white sundress she’s wearing. She’s beautiful, ethereal, and _god,_ he’s so in love with her, it makes his heart physically ache.

He can’t look away, can’t keep his hands from touching her, holding her. One hand rests gently at the dip of her waist, thumb stroking along the upper swell as it leads into her ribcage, while the other mindlessly plays with strands of her hair, feeling the soft silk of it slide between his fingers.

She opens her eyes, dazzling him with her warm, gold-flecked brown irises, and her smile grows even wider. “Whatcha looking at?” she asks. The tone of her voice is low and intimate, made only for his ears. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“Just you,” Mike says, voice just as low.

She giggles and something deep in his stomach goes all fluttery. “Staring awful hard, aren’t you?” 

“I dunno,” Mike says with a grin. “There just… something a little different about you.” He doesn’t notice it until he says it, but it’s true. Something about her seems… _sharper,_ is the only thing he can think of, more intense and vibrant. It’s irresistible and Mike is like a moth drawn to her flame. 

“Well, I hope it’s something good,” she says. Her smile’s still on her face, but there’s a shyness in her eyes that tugs on his heartstrings. 

“It’s good, _really_ good,” Mike says, hurrying to reassure her. “You’re just so beautiful and I don’t ever want to look away.”

“You’re such a charmer,” she says as a blush creeps up her cheeks, the gentle pink edging out her shyness. “I love you.” The words come out with a happy sigh, rich with so much emotion that it nearly brings tears to his eyes. 

“I love you, too,” Mike says without hesitation. He’s long since passed caring that he’s in love with a woman born from the desperate depths of his imagination. And if this is the only happiness he gets to experience in his life, then it’ll have made going crazy completely worth it. He wouldn’t change this for _anything,_ not if it meant losing her. 

“Let’s stay here forever,” she says, voice barely above a whisper as she gently strokes his chest, making delicious shivers ripple across his skin. 

Mike pulls her closer and leans in so his forehead presses against hers. He breathes in deeply, letting his lungs fill with her soft, alluringly light citrus scent. God, if only he could wrap himself up in her and only her, he’d never want for anything else as long as he lives. “Anything for you.”

And what he wouldn’t give to make that a reality.

* * *

  
After that first meeting during spring break, Will and El start hanging out. Not a lot – they’re both busy college students, after all. But, every few weeks or so when the gaps in their school schedules align and they’re not overwhelmed with schoolwork, they’ll get together for lunch or coffee somewhere between their two schools.

It’s nice. El doesn’t have many friends. And though she has yet to meet the friends Will lives with, the stories he tells her about them let her start to feel like they’re her friends, too. 

But even when Will talks about other things, it’s still nice. And unlike with Max sometimes – who’s loud and heavily opinionated and even though El loves her, it sometimes is a little _too_ much – Will gives El space to equally participate in the “give-and-take” and it’s like she’s actually a 50-50 contributor to a conversation.

So when El meets up with Will halfway through May, she’s come to really start to look forward to spending time with him. They meet up at a coffee shop and manage to grab a seat by the front windows where they can look out on the street as they sip at their drinks.

“So,” Will starts without any preamble during a natural lull in their conversation. “Are you busy next weekend?”

El lets out a delicate snort after she takes a sip of her iced coffee and she smiles. “Not unless you count sleeping to recover from finals week as ‘busy’,” she says, mentally cringing at the work ahead of her over the next several days. It’s one of the reasons she so readily accepted Will’s invitation to meet for coffee – it’s going to be the only break she gets until finals are over.

“Oh, so you’re free, then,” Will says with a teasing grin. “Good, you can come to my art show.”

At that, El’s brow furrows and she looks at him with a curious tilt of her head. “Art show?”

Will nods, a few jerky ups and downs of his head. “Yeah, it’s part of my finals week, as it were. I have my own display where I can show some of the pieces I’ve worked on over the past semester. So, you wanna come? There’ll be finger foods and stuff. Oh, and you’ll be able to meet my friends! You can bring a friend if you want, but if not, you won’t be alone.”

The tone in Will’s voice is almost wheedling, like a little boy asking to stay up past his bedtime, and it overcomes any instinctual hesitancy on El’s part. “Yeah, ok, I’ll go. Sounds like fun!” El can’t keep the small smile from creeping up onto her face. “I’ll admit, I’m curious to see what your artwork looks like. And it’ll be nice to meet your friends.”

A bright smile shines on Will’s face and it makes El feel all warm to be able to make someone else so happy.

_Someone **real** , _ her brain whispers, taunting her and El ignores the way her heart pangs in response. 

Or, at least, she tries. 

* * *

  
“Does something feel different to you?” The question floats out there for a heavy moment, her voice soft but carrying in the air as the horizon gently moves up and down in front of her. The source of that movement is El, actually – her and _him_ as they sit snuggled up on a large, wooden swing, lazily swinging back and forth. It’s nice out, like it always is, the late afternoon air warm but not too warm with the sun doing its best to not be so harsh as it shines down on them.

That’s not the “different” El is referring to.

He lets out a laugh behind her. The swing is deep enough that she can easily sit cradled between his parted knees, leaving her surrounded by the warmth she’s come to rely on over the past decade. “Well, we’re not usually on a swing, if that’s what you mean,” he says. 

El feels him shift behind her so he can press a kiss against the side of her head and she leans into the intimate touch. “True,” El gracefully concedes. And it is. When she was younger, her dreams with him were more… action-oriented, she guesses. They’d most likely be doing something – playing at the beach, walking through a city, exploring somewhere wild and exotic. 

But as she’s gotten older, the dreams have changed, becoming more relaxing, where it’s just the two of them content to be still with each other’s company. Sure, yes, often there’s kissing or _more,_ depending on the dream. But it’s all in one spot, somewhere the two of them can snuggle up in peace without distractions. 

So, compared to what passes as normal these days, yes, them on a swing is a little unusual, she has to give him that. “But that’s not what I mean.”

One of his arms comes down to encircle her waist and hold her tight. “What did you mean, then?” he asks, curiosity piqued. 

For a moment, El doesn’t know what to say. El’s not the best when it comes to words when she’s awake, never mind in her dreams. So it takes her a little bit to get to the words she wants to say… or at least the ones that will come close to describing what she’s feeling. “It’s like, you know that moment when you feel like someone’s staring at you and the skin on the back of your neck feels all prickly? It’s kinda like that, but just in the air all around us.” She shrugs, frustrated with her inability to describe it. “I don’t know, it just feels like something’s coming and I don’t know what.”

Behind her, he’s quiet for a bit, like he’s trying to feel out the truth of her statement. “Yeah, I think I get what you mean.” His arm tightens even more around her and El lets her hand come to rest on top of his where it’s curved around her waist. “You do know that it’ll be ok, right? I’ll always be here, no matter what happens.”

They’ve all but stopped swinging back and forth by this point, so El doesn’t fear losing her balance as she turns around to look at him. The sight of his warm, dark brown eyes and beautiful constellation of freckles dotting his nose and cheeks never fails to both take her breath away and make her feel all gooey inside. She takes her hand from his and places it gently his face, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Do you promise?”

He leans in very gently and presses his lips against hers in a soft, reassuring kiss that nevertheless makes her shiver. “I promise.”

* * *

  
Mike hears Will before he sees him. Or, rather, Mike hears footsteps approaching his open bedroom door and since he can _also_ still hear Lucas and Dustin having a spirited conversation (aka: _an argument),_ unless someone’s broken into their house, the only other person left is Will.

Mike’s room is a mess in a way his gaze can’t ignore _(thanks, finals week)_ as he looks over at his door, but he chooses not to focus on it in favor of seeing what his friend wants as Will steps into view. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your art show so you can be there early to set up?” Mike asks as he puts down the fantasy novel he’s reading. He knows he’s just putting off getting ready himself, but since the art show doesn’t start for a few hours, Mike figures he has a little leeway.

“Yes, I am,” Will says with a tight sigh. “But I wanted to talk to you about something real quick while the others are distracted.”

At that, Mike sits up straight from where he’s lounging on his bed, curiosity officially piqued. “What’s going on? Everything ok?” One of the patterns in Mike and Will’s friendship is that Will often confides in him first before the rest of the Party when he’s got something to share or if something is bothering him. It’s been that way since kindergarten (and vice versa) and Mike doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

“Oh, don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Will says as he leans against the doorframe. “I just had a favor to ask you.”

Mike’s concern fades, leaving him just simply curious. “Oh, yeah, sure. What is it?”

Will lets out another breath, like he’s gearing himself up for something. “Ok, so, you know how I invited El, my mom’s boyfriend’s daughter? So, she’s going to be coming by herself and I’m going to be kinda busy most of the night. And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out for her? I don’t need you to be, like, best friends, but I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t hanging out by herself all night. And, well...”

Mike carries the thought to its natural conclusion. “You can’t ask Dustin because he flirts with everything that moves and Lucas can scare people away with his skepticism, so I’m the only person you can ask, I know.” Mike pauses, smirking. “And, yeah, sure, I’ll keep an eye out for her. But you owe me, Byers.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Will says with a roll of his eyes. “You won’t think so after you see her, though. Maybe this is the one, you never know.”

Mike chuckles. It’s been a thing ever since he told the rest of the Party about the dreams, that he’ll find someone more beautiful than the woman in his dreams. “Uh huh, we’ll see….” Mike says with his own eye roll. 

A girl as beautiful as the woman in his dreams? _Fat chance…._

* * *

  
The first time Max calls out to her, El has her head buried in her closet. She pulls back out, a blouse in each hand, and leans so she can call back. “What was that?” El all but yells in Max’s direction. She heads for Max’s room, looking back and forth at each blouse, her fingers wrapped securely around the hangers, dressed only in her nicest skirt – a black, pencil skirt that hugs tight to her thighs and ends a couple inches above her knee – and a bra (she’s long since lost most of a sense of modesty when it comes to Max).

“I said,” Max says as El gets closer. “Maybe you’ll meet some cute guy tonight. A sensitive artist boyfriend is just what you need to move on from those dreams.”

El rolls her eyes. “God, please stop. I so regret telling you about those dreams. And let me just say, I find it amusing that Max ‘I don’t need no man’ Mayfield is pushing me towards chasing a relationship.” She pauses and looks at the barely controlled chaos in front of her. “How’s packing going?”

Max lets out a groan from where she’s kneeling in her bed, clothes strewn about around a duffel bag that’s half full. “Ugh, _horrible._ I don’t know why my mom is insisting on having a ‘family vacation’ anyway. It’s not like we’ll ever really stop hating each other enough to bond. Never mind that I _hate_ that she’s making me do this right after finals. Like, let me recover first, you know?” Max shakes her head and sighs. “Anyway, not important. What _is_ important is you putting yourself out there and showing yourself that you don’t have to be tied to those weirdo dreams.”

It’s a well-worn argument the two of them have had since El told Max about her dreams – Max trying anything and everything to get El to move past them, El trying to tell her that the heart doesn’t work that way – and El’s not exactly in the mood to head down that path. Especially not since Max is heading back to Indianapolis while El is out at Will’s art show and she doesn’t want there to be any bad air between them while they’re apart. 

So El decides to take the high road and just side-step Max’s unsubtle jibes. “Well, I won’t be able to do any of that if I can’t figure out what to wear. So, which one?”

El holds out her hands to show off each shirt. The first one is a white, silky, three-quarter length button down shirt (not real silk – she doesn’t have that kind of money) that feels luxurious on her skin. And the other is a sleeveless, navy v-neck blouse that skims close to her silhouette and dips low enough in the front to make her feel a little daring, but is more than modest enough not to attract the wrong attention. 

It doesn’t take Max long to pick. “The blue one. With that skirt, the white one makes you look like a hostess at the kind of restaurant where everyone has to wear jackets and they give you way too much silverware.”

“Gee, tell me what you really think,” El says, sarcasm dripping from every word. It takes everything she has not to roll her eyes again.

Max grins, sharp and wolfish. “Hey, and I have my filter on, too. Imagine if I didn’t.”

This time, El _does_ roll her eyes as she hangs the rejected blouse on the doorknob so she can put on the other. “Oh, the world would crumble under your withering criticism.”

“Damn straight, it would,” Max says through a laugh.

They go back to their own tasks after that – Max to her packing and El to getting appropriately ready for an evening at the Art Institute.

El goes easy but elegant on her hair and makeup, pulling her hair back in a half ponytail and sticking mainly to blush and a little mascara on her face. The finishing touches are the simple black flats she slips onto her feet and the small purse with a strap long enough to cross over her chest. And then, after a somewhat lengthy goodbye with Max, considering that they’re not going to see each other for the next couple of weeks, El heads out the door.

The L is still running regularly enough in the early evening hours, so El doesn’t have to wait long to get on the route that’ll eventually spit her out close to the Art Institute. From there, the directions she got from Will are spot on and it doesn’t take El long before she’s checking in at the table manning the entrance.

She’s welcomed into the exhibition hall with a smile and handed a little pamphlet that has a listing of all the artists on display with a map to let visitors know where each exhibit is. So it’s easy for El to find where Will is set up.

Will’s just politely thanking a couple of people for stopping by when El approaches and his whole face brightens when he sees her. “El, you made it!”

El giggles as she approaches. “Well, you gave very excellent directions, so getting here was pretty easy.” Her gaze slides past him and onto the temporary white walls where his artwork is hanging, a varied array of oil paintings, watercolors, and charcoal sketches. The talent is obvious, even to an untrained eye such as hers, and El marvels over the colors and sheer artistry on display. “Oh my god, Will. Your art is amazing!” 

El turns back to him to see a blush creeping onto Will’s face. “Oh, um, thank you,” he manages to say. “Really, I’m just ok, though. There are lots of people here who are more talented.”

“So, you can take a compliment from perfect strangers – I heard what those people who just left said, by the way – but not from me?” El asks with an arched eyebrow

Will shrugs, squirming a bit. “It’s different when it’s from friends, you know?”

At that, El melts a little inside. “Aww, you think of me as a friend.”

“Of course I do, you goof,” Will says with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, you should check out the rest of the show, maybe grab some food. My friends are going to be stopping by eventually and I want you to meet them.”

El nods, smiling. “Ok, sounds good. Looking forward to meeting your friends, by the way.”

Will laughs, smiling almost tiredly. “Funny you should say that – I think they’re thinking the same about you.”

* * *

  
The art show is in full swing by the time Mike, Dustin, and Lucas get there and Mike can’t help but cringe a little. “Yeah, we’re late. Will is gonna kill us.”

At this, Lucas glares at Dustin. “Well, we’d be on time if _someone_ didn’t spend 20 minutes doing his hair.”

“Hey, so sue me for taking pride in how I look,” Dustin says with hands raised defensively. “You could stand to spend a little more time in front of the mirror.”

Lucas guffaws. “Wow, you have some nerve, you know that?”

“Ok, ok, cut it out,” Mike says as he claps both of them on the shoulder hard enough to make them jump – it’s been like this the entire L ride over and he’s _done._ “You two go find something to eat – maybe some food in your system will stop you two from being so testy – and I’m going to go find Will, ok?”

Tempers temporarily calmed, Dustin and Lucas head off to find food and Mike lets out a tired sigh as he goes to find Will. The map of the show is helpful and with the advantage of height Mike has over most of the people in the room, it’s not hard for him to find where Will is set up.

“Will, hey!” Mike calls out when he gets close enough to be heard over the general din of the crowds.

Will, who had been looking the other way, turns at the sound of his name being called out and gives Mike a toothy grin when he sees him. “Hey, you’re here!” The grin turns teasing. “Finally.”

Mike lets out a groan as he gets up close. “God, please don’t. I swear, I almost _killed_ Dustin and Lucas on my way over.”

“That bad, huh?” Will says with a grimace.

“Yes, _that bad.”_ Mike gestures off somewhere behind him. “I sent them to find food. Either that’ll help or they’ll kill each other, but either way, I won’t have to see it.”

“Well, there’s plenty of people here for you to put between you and them, if you wanna get lost for a little while,” Will says with a sympathetic smile. “Oh, hey, and speaking of people, that favor I asked you–”

“The one where you asked me to look out for your mom’s boyfriend’s daughter?” Mike says with a snickering grin.

“Yeah, that one,” Will says, giving Mike a stern look. “She’s here… somewhere. If you go off wandering, you mind keeping an eye out for her?”

Mike glances around at the sea of people and arches an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, sure, I’ll just keep an eye out for a girl I’ve never met or seen before. Piece of cake.”

Will rolls his eyes. “God, you’re such a shit sometimes,” he says with a sigh. “Long brown hair, pulled back, with a navy shirt and black skirt. Really shouldn’t be too many people who fit that description, and I bet only one of them is named El.”

Mike nods, trying to build a picture of this girl from Will’s description. “Yeah, ok, can do. I think I’ll go grab some food – hopefully Dustin and Lucas have moved on by now – and I’ll keep an eye out while I do that.”

Will gives Mike a grateful smile. “Thanks, I really do appreciate it.”

A small smile pulls up the corners of his lips and one of Mike’s shoulders lifts in a half shrug. “Hey man, what are friends for?” 

* * *

  
El wanders without direction, simply letting what catches her eye pull her along. There are sculptures and paintings and photographs galore, in all different styles with all sorts of subjects. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to focus on, but El just lets herself live in the moment and go her own pace.

Which is good because there’s just enough of a crowd around her to make her feel a bit skittish. El has never really liked crowds – too many people, too many opportunities for something to go wrong.

But, for the moment, she’s not going to let herself be bothered. Not when there’s so much to see, so many – 

* * *

  
– People to weave through. It’s like everywhere Mike wants to go, there’s a bunch of people right in his way.

_Seriously, I just wanna grab something to eat._ Mike thinks sourly. _Why is this so hard?_ Luckily, Mike’s tall and people tend to move out of the way for tall people, so it isn’t too much trouble for him to make his way through the crowd.

Yeah, sure, he bumps into a few people or they bump into him, but that’s just par for the course when you’re gangly and awkward – lots of opportunities for collision.

Eventually, _finally,_ Mike makes his way to the food. Unfortunately, the caterers are in the middle of refreshing most of what they’re serving, leaving Mike only able to grab some cheese and crackers unless he wants to hover awkwardly nearby for a few minutes like a loser.

So, Mike settles for a tiny plate of cheese and crackers and, with a soda in the other hand, moves away to head back to Will. The food won’t hold him for long, though, and Mike doesn’t know he wants to brave making his way back to the caterers’ station again. Maybe – 

* * *

  
– She’ll go and get some food after this is over. Nothing over at the hors d'oeuvres table looked terribly appealing. And though El doesn’t know the area around the Art Institute well, she’s sure that Will _must_ have some recommendations.

Course of action firmly decided on, El decides to start making her way back to Will – 

* * *

  
– But suddenly it’s like every person has converged on the very spots Mike wants to go. He hastily shoves his cheese and crackers into his mouth, balancing the tiny plate on top of his soda, before he even attempts to head back to where Will and hopefully the others are.

It’s a frustrating journey, Mike fighting against the tide of people. He ducks around a cluster of about a dozen people, pausing to eye – 

* * *

  
– A stunning photography display – 4 photos, black and white, all architectural and interesting angles – manages to capture El’s attention and she stops for a few seconds, admiring the artistry before she – 

* * *

  
– Begins walking once more, trying again to weave through throngs of people. Mike knows he’s getting close, but his goal has never felt further away in his life.

He spies an opening between two groups of people and beelines for it just in time for someone from one of those groups to back up right into him. Mike stops short and takes a rushed step back, hand held out to keep his soda from sloshing over the rim of the cup and onto him.

But the space behind him isn’t empty and –

* * *

  
– El gasps when another body suddenly collides with hers as she looks the other way. Immediately, her mouth opens in an apology, already turning.. “Oh my god, I’m–”

* * *

  
“ – So sorry,” comes tumbling out of Mike’s mouth, talking in sync with the person he’s just run into. Embarrassment crests inside of him as he turns around to check on the person he’s apologizing to. He looks down – 

* * *

  
– She looks up, and – 

* * *

  
_There are moments where time feels like nothing more than an illusion, elastic and amorphous, subject to forces beyond our knowing._

_This is one of those moments._

_Because in this moment – this breathless, **beautiful** moment – time just **stops**. _

_Their eyes meet, familiar gazes locking in an unfamiliar world. There’s a timeless half a second, while the rest of the world moves around them, as their minds struggle to wrap around what they’re seeing, to make sense of what’s happening as everything they thought they knew shifts beneath their feet._

_And then it hits them: **they’re not dreaming**. _

* * *

  
At first, all Mike can do is stare. It’s like his brain is short-circuiting and he’s stuck, tripping on the same question over and over:

_What is happening?_

It’s _her,_ standing in front of him. She’s here, but how? Or _is_ she here? Has she moved from dreams to hallucinations? Or has Mike finally gone completely insane and _all_ of this is just one giant hallucination?

Even if he’s just completely cracked and is just seeing things, she’s still beautiful. Hell, Mike thinks she might even be _more_ beautiful, features sharper, more intricate. He’s never been able to see her so _clearly_ before and he greedily drinks in the sight of her – lush hair, flushed cheeks, rich brown eyes that are staring up at him with shock and confusion – 

Wait, what? Why is _she_ confused? Shouldn’t she not be surprised to be here? Isn’t that how hallucinations go? Unless….

No, no, it’s not possible. It _can’t_ be possible. She can’t be real; she just _can’t_ be. How could he have been dreaming about _a real person_ without having met her for _10 years?_

Mike can’t look away, couldn’t even if he wanted to. He doesn’t even know if he’s blinked in the however long he’s been standing here just _staring._ Because if he takes his eyes off of her for just a second, she’ll disappear and he’ll never know if she’s real or if he’s just gone completely round the bend.

So he focuses on the look in her eyes, in the way she’s looking back at him. And it hits him like a bullet train, that he recognizes the look in her eyes. Because the way she’s looking at him is the _same way_ he’s looking at her: desperate, confused, gaze full of recognition and a little bit of fear that something is wrong balanced out by the wild, improbable hope that this is _real._

Mike knows this because he _knows_ her. For almost a decade, she’s been a constant companion, a lover, a confidant, from the moment he falls asleep to the moment he’s dragged awake. He knows her as well as he knows himself. And if all of that was real, if he somehow wasn’t completely making it up the whole time….

Mike doesn’t have a chance to fully process that thought before he’s rudely yanked back into the real world by the sound of Will’s voice. “Oh, hey, here you both are!” Mike turns to see Will approaching, a toothy if tight grin on his face. “Good, saves me some effort. Also, see, I knew my description was good.”

“Um, what?” Mike says dumbly. 

Will looks at him and then at _her,_ grin dimming just a little. “My description of El.” His face softens a bit. “El, this is one of my friends, Mike.”

_Oh god, holy shit. Will can see her. She’s real. She’s really **real**. _ Mike looks back at her, eyes wide. He feels dizzy, heart racing so fast his lungs can’t keep up. _El, her name is **El**. _ Her name is beautiful, delicate, and sweet – just knowing her name claws at Mike’s heartstrings, the resolution of a missing piece long time in coming.“O-oh, yeah?” she says, stumbling over her words a bit. Even still, her voice is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

She, _El_ – god, how did Mike not realize how incomplete his life was before he found out her name? – looks away from Will to look back at Mike, eyes wide as she’s hit by the same realization that Mike is: that this isn’t a dream, that it’s _really_ happening.

And as Mike locks gazes with her once more, it also occurs to him that he’s never felt more in sync with another person in his entire life. It makes him feel connected to her in ways he never thought possible… which is totally fitting since _none_ of this feels like it should be possible.

“So, how’d you find her, Mike?” Will asks.

Mike doesn’t, _can’t,_ look away as he answers. “Just… ran into her.” His voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. But he’s too caught up in everything, in _her,_ to look away. _Never again._

“Literally,” El says and, as if it was unbidden, a small smile crosses her face, corners of her lips tugged up just so. Mike’s heart trips over itself as he _swears_ he falls in love with her just from the sight of her smile. It makes her whole face light up and Mike’s entranced. And, the entire time, she doesn’t look away from him, either.

There’s a long pause where Mike and El can’t seem to look away, where neither of them _want_ to look away. “Ok,” Will says slowly. “You guys are acting weird and I don’t have time to figure out why. I just wanted to let you know that one of my classmates asked me for help, so if you see Lucas or Dustin, can you tell them I’ll be back eventually?”

Mike nods. “Uh huh, yeah, sure.” It’s a lie and he knows it. He knows he’s not going to be able to pay attention to anything other than the woman in front of him.

“Good luck with your friend,” El says, sounding just as attentive as Mike just did.

There’s another pause before Will lets out a tsking sigh. “Ok, bye, you weirdos,” he mutters just loud enough for Mike to hear before he walks away, leaving Mike and El _(oh god, he’s never going to get over knowing her name)_ alone in a sea of people once more.

For a breathless moment, there’s just silence while they stare at each other. Mike doesn’t know what to say. God, _what_ can he say that would even come close to capturing just how profound this moment is? It feels surreal, like something out of a dream. Only, he’s finally _not_ dreaming. This is real, _she’s_ real, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The realization makes him smile, heartsick with relief and happiness, and a breathless laugh bubbles out of him. “Hi.” It feels like his voice is barely loud enough for her to hear, but the way she smiles makes him think otherwise.

“Hi,” she says, echoing the simple greeting. El stares up at him, wide eyed with awe. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

The simple words unlock something deep inside Mike’s heart and he’s overwhelmed with the tsunami of emotions that washes over him. Because for as long as he’s been dreaming about her, he hasn’t been alone. She’s been there, dreaming about him too, sharing equally in the world they built for themselves while thinking they were building it alone.

Mike’s not alone, not anymore.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Mike says, voice growing rough with emotion. Slowly, he holds out his hand. Somewhere along the way, he dropped his soda on the ground, but he’s so far past caring it’s not even funny. “I’m Mike.”

A sweet laugh escapes from between El’s gorgeous lips and her eyes are shimmering bright with emotion. She reaches back and the moment her hand touches his, Mike just about loses it. He swallows roughly as their hands clasp, her skin soft against his, the warmth of her seeping into him and making him shiver. “Hi Mike, I’m El.”

Nothing could have prepared Mike for the way his name sounds coming from her lips and he almost has to close his eyes against the sheer force of everything that he’s feeling. “El.” He breathes her name, letting it live on his tongue. He hears the sharp intake of breath she gives and it takes everything he has not to pull her close and wrap himself around her. _Not the right place for it,_ he reminds himself.

Instead, Mike smiles and knows he’s wearing his heart openly on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“For real, you mean,” El says, mouth curling up in one of those wry smiles Mike has come to love so much over the past 10 years.

He lets out a laugh that’s almost manic as the absurdity of all of this hits him once more. “I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what’s going on right now.” Their hands are still clasped together and neither of them show signs of wanting to let go – not that Mike minds _at all._

“Oh, good, it’s not just me,” El says with a sigh of relief. The sound of it is like a gentle caress against his eardrums and Mike can’t help but shiver.

God, he can’t get over just how beautiful she is. If he thought she was gorgeous in dreams, in real life, she’s _stunning._ Everything about her is crisp and ethereal and every inch of him warms over with just from looking at her. “Did you want to get out of here?”

Her eyes brighten even more even as El arches an eyebrow. “What about your friends? Won’t they be wondering where Will went?”

Mike shrugs and tries to ignore how he melts under the sweetness of her concern. “They’re smart – they’ll figure it out.”

“Ok, then,” El says, ducking her head so that she has to look up at him through her lashes to maintain eye contact. That and the way her cheeks suffuse with light pink makes Mike’s heart go all pitter-patter. He hopes it never stops. “Let’s go.”

* * *

  
_This is real, this is real. Oh god, this is **real**. _

The thought repeats in El’s mind over and over again like a mantra and she swears it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away entirely. She feels like she’s dreaming, only she _knows_ she’s not. El knows the difference between dreams and reality – it’s just that she’s the kind of deliriously happy that she only normally experiences in her dreams with him.

_With Mike._ El’s heart skips a beat at the thought of his name, feeling it slot into that piece of her that’s been missing since she was 11. Because _of course_ his name his Mike – how could it be anything else? It’s perfect, just like him.

She’s still holding his hand as they make their way out of the art show and El wishes she never had to let go. She’s not sure where they’re going, but for the moment, that’s ok. As long as she’s with him, nothing else matters.

Even not when she has so many other questions. Like how is this even possible? How could she have been really dreaming about a real person all this time? And how could he have been dreaming about her too? How have they been sharing their dreams, learning and growing together while they slept for 10 years?

It’s the stuff of magic and fantasies and El knows she’ll probably never get answers to any of those questions. But when Mike turns and smiles over at her, El realizes she doesn’t care. She’ll accept a lifetime of never knowing in exchange for having this beautiful, gorgeous, _real_ guy by her side.

God, her heart feels full to the point of bursting and she’s never been happier in her entire life.

Late spring evenings in Chicago aren’t exactly cool, but compared to the inside of the exhibition hall, the open air of the Art Institute’s campus is a relief. They slow to a stop and El tugs on Mike’s hand. “So, where to?”

Mike turns to look at her and El’s breath catches dangerously in her chest at the sight of him. He’s _gorgeous,_ cute beyond all measure, and the angles of his jaw and cheekbones are devastatingly handsome. There’s just enough light for El to make out the freckles across his cheeks and nose, and she almost swoons at the sight, pleased beyond measure that she didn’t make those up.

_God, he’s just too handsome for his own good,_ El thinks with a mental sigh.

Mike licks his lips in what El knows is one of his nervous gestures (which does nothing to keep El from wanting to kiss him) and he gives her a sheepish smile. “I, um, don’t know, actually. I don’t really come down this way too much, so I don’t know the area.”

Neither does El and her heart gives a nervous flutter when her mind lights up with the first idea that comes to her. “Well, we could go back to my place,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. “I only live about a 15-minute L ride away. And my roommate’s out of town, so we wouldn’t have to worry about other people.” It sounds so _forward,_ inviting him back to her place like this. El remembers all of _those_ dreams they’ve shared, so this shouldn't be uncharted territory for them, but even so, it still feels a little forward… just not enough to make her regret it.

From the glint in Mike’s eye, he’s picked up on it, but the vast majority of his gaze is just _happy,_ warm and content. “Ok, sounds good. Mind if we stop for food on the way?” He pauses, chuckling a little. “I guess it could be kind of like a date, if you wanted.”

An army of butterflies takes flight inside El’s heart. Mike’s words, an ask thinly veiled as a suggestion, are spoken with such shy sweetness, it very nearly makes her melt. “There’s a good Italian place by my apartment that does takeout. Or….” She shies away, ducking her gaze. “There’s food at my place. I could make us something.”

“Save that idea for next time,” Mike says, almost rushing to get the words out. El looks up, confused, even as her heart’s about to burst at the thought of ‘next time’. “Don’t get me wrong – I’d love to taste what you make. I can’t cook for anything, so I’m always amazed at people who can.” He squeezes her hand. “But I want to do this right. So let me buy you dinner. Plus, this way, we can focus on, well… _this,”_ he says, gesturing back and forth in the space between them with his free hand.

For a moment, El just stares up at him. She always figured that this sweet, sensitive guy was just a wish she’d dreamed up, that no guy could be this nice, this thoughtful. But, no, this is really who Mike is and if El wasn’t already head over heels in love with him, this would have done it. “Ok,” she says, smiling shyly overwhelmed. “You can buy me dinner.”

Mike beams at her, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Ok, good.”

For a moment, they can only stare at each other, smiling like idiots. But El’s so happy – _they’re_ so happy – that she can’t bring herself to care. After a second, though, they wordlessly agree to start walking, eager to see what the rest of the night will bring, hands still clasped the entire time. 

After a minute or so, though, Mike tugs on El’s hand as he stops in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing El to stop unless she wants to let go of his hand, which she does _not_ want to do. She turns towards him, mostly curious but also a little concerned. “Mike? Everything ok?” Just the simple act of _speaking_ his name makes El shiver with happiness and she hopes it never stops. 

Mike looks down at her, eyes wide and earnest. He takes in a shuddering breath, holding it for a weightless moment like he’s gathering up courage, before he speaks. “Can I….” He pulls in another shaky breath, tongue flashing out to lick his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Goosebumps break out on El’s skin and she shivers as pleasure ripples down her spine. She swallows roughly before she speaks, so close to being overwhelmed. “You’ve never asked before.” The words come out sounding breathless, but she can’t help it – the thought of kissing him _for real_ makes her shiver with anticipation.

Mike’s head gives a jerky nod, a sure sign that he’s nervous. “I know, but this is _real._ I don’t – I can’t just –” He cuts himself off, lips pressing together like it’s all that’s holding him back. “I gotta do this right.” His voice leaves him in a strangled whisper, sounding desperate and hopeful all at the same time.

El looks up at him, almost speechless. But she manages to find her voice after a couple of near-breathless seconds. “Yes, ok.”

Mike’s eyebrows arch beseechingly. “Yeah?”

El’s lips twitch up in a smile. “Yeah.” 

Mike smiles at her and, suddenly, it’s like her equilibrium has shifted and she finds herself gravitating towards him, unable to resist falling into his orbit. 

Mike reaches for her, one shaky hand coming up to cup her cheek while the other lets go of her hand to curl sweetly around her waist. El can’t help the way she trembles as she reaches back so that her hands are braced against him low on his ribcage. 

With him so close, El can’t help but notice just how tall Mike is. He has at least 9 inches on her and he makes her feel small and delicate. She almost hates to say how much she loves it. But she can barely think about that when his palm is warm and solid against her cheek and the feel of his hand on her waist, touch burning through the thin fabric of her blouse, makes her feel all gooey and shivery. 

El’s breath hitches in her chest as Mike starts to lean in and she instinctively tips her face up in response, pushing up onto her toes to meet him partway. Every inch of her skin buzzes at his closeness. He radiates warmth and safety and excitement and bone-deep familiarity even as she marvels at the newness of this experience.

But he doesn’t kiss her. Not right away. Instead, he leans forward so his forehead can rest against hers, the tips of their noses brushing sweetly. El’s eyes flutter shut and she finds that her ability to breathe is rapidly slipping away. “Please be real,” Mike says, the words caressing the skin of her cheeks and lips. His voice is a tight whisper and the depth of the desperation in his voice finds a home in El’s chest, making her throat tighten up with emotion. “Please don’t disappear.”

El’s lower lip begins to tremble from sheer emotional overload and she can’t make any guarantees that she won’t start crying at any second. “I’m here,” she says. “As long as you promise the same.”

A laugh that sounds suspiciously close to a sob bubbles out of him. “I promise. I _always_ promise.”

“Good,” El says, barely able to get the word out through the lump in her throat.

And then the time for talking is over, no more words necessary. There are still things left to say, things El wants to know. For all that she knows the Mike from their dreams, she doesn’t know the person he is in the waking world. There are things to discover, things to share. Because just as she doesn’t know him in this context, he equally doesn’t know her.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, the only thing El wants is for Mike to kiss her so she can know what it’s like to _really_ kiss him.

And then, he does. He moves against her, nose brushing against hers as he tilts his head and finishes leaning in. El’s face tips up just in time for his lips to meet hers and the moment his mouth touches hers, she promptly loses any and all ability to think.

In her dreams – in _their_ dreams – his kisses are firm yet gentle, lips warm and soft and thrilling as they caress hers. Out here in the waking world, they’re all that… and _more._ The touch of Mike’s mouth to hers is _everything_ and El can’t help the whimpering sob that bubbles up into her throat, echoed by the sound of Mike gasping into the kiss.

Tears prickle behind her closed eyelids and El can’t help the way her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to keep her tethered and grounded. Her heart is racing so fast, El’s not entirely sure it’s not going to just beat right out of her chest, and every inch of her skin breaks out into shivers, tingling and tickling with goosebumps. 

_This is real. Oh god, this is **real**. _

The truth of that thought is unavoidable and hewed into every detail of this precious, beautiful moment. In her dreams, her neck doesn’t strain to reach up for his mouth. In her dreams, there aren’t the sounds of the city and of people walking past them with their own distinct conversations. In her dreams, there isn’t some random person catcalling them and shouting out, “Yeah, man, go get her!” as Mike kisses her in the middle of the sidewalk on one of Chicago’s busiest thoroughfares.

In her dreams, his mouth has never felt quite so firm or warm. In her dreams, she has never felt this swept off her feet.

By the time the kiss comes to a slow, reluctant end, El has lost the fight against her tears. They blur her vision and make the corners of her eyes burn as a handful of them trickle down her cheeks. The only consolation is that Mike’s eyes are suspiciously just as shimmery and he’s breathing like he’s a half step away from losing it all together.

El’s lips, still tingling from the kiss, curl up in a small, shaky smile. “Just so you know,” she says, voice thick and trembling. “These are happy tears.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering,” Mike says with a wobbly laugh.

One of El’s hands loosens its grip on Mike’s shirt so she can slide it up his chest and he trembles against her as she rests it over his heart. She can feel the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her palm and finds that it beats in time with hers, a rapid, overwhelmed, lovesick staccato that takes her breath away and makes her feel lighter than air. “Kiss me again?” she asks. El’s aware that she’s pleading, _begging,_ but she doesn’t care. She’s just too happy to care about anything else other than this.

Mike smiles at her like she’s just granted him every single wish he’s ever had in his entire life. And maybe she has. “Gladly,” he whispers before he moves in once more, El meeting him halfway as his mouth slants over hers in a kiss that makes the rest of the world just fade away.

How could she ever care about anything other than this?

* * *

  
Eventually, Mike and El make their way back to her apartment. Having to stop kissing her is just about the hardest thing Mike’s ever done in his entire life. But it’s worth it for the way she doesn’t stop smiling at him as they hold hands on the L ride – first to the restaurant to get takeout, where he holds the door open for her like a gentleman, and then to her small, 2 bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor of an old brownstone. 

The whole night feels like a dream – no, not a dream. Mike knows what dreams feel like.

_This_ feels like a fantasy come to life, like he’s living out every wish he’s ever made.

He never wants this to end and, god willing, it never will.

They eat takeout Italian on a couch that’s a little ratty, but it still neatly kept and comfortable. They use throw pillows as tables as they sit with their legs folded in front of them, knees just touching, and if El notices that Mike can’t keep from occasionally glancing at her legs where the hem of her tight skirt has ridden up her thighs, then she doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.

It’s just one of a myriad of details that keeps Mike anchored to the here and now, that keeps him painfully and blissfully aware that this is all _real._ Mike feels hyper aware of every little detail, every one of El’s idiosyncrasies, greedily hoarding every bit he learns about her. 

Like the way her hand delicately comes up to wipe away a smear of tomato sauce that gathers at the corner of her mouth. Or how her tongue licks at her lips to capture lingering droplets of water after she takes a sip from her glass. 

Or like the way she absently picks at the corner of the pillow in her lap after they’re done eating, while they talk about everything and nothing, sharing as many of the mundane details about who they are, the kinds of details that never make their way into the world of dreams, like what their favorite color is or what they’re majoring in at school or what their last names are.

Most of all, Mike can’t get enough of just _touching_ her – holding her hand or resting his fingers on her knee or leaning over to kiss her, which never fails to make his heart skip a beat with how soft her lips are or the way she sighs and giggles against his mouth, her hand often coming up to gently caress his cheek with warm, delicate fingers.

Eventually, they shift on the couch, getting into a position that’s all too familiar for them: him stretched out while she curls up against him with her head pillowed against his shoulder and his arm wraps around her to hold him close. Only he’s never been so keenly aware of the weight of her pressing against him or the light, citrus scent of her shampoo. It’s addicting and heady and Mike wants _more._

“I can’t believe this is real,” Mike says, the words spilling out of him. El’s apartment is dim, with only a couple of lights on. The light of the streetlights from outside peek in through the blinds and Mike can hear the sounds of the city through the windows. It’s real with the kind of clarity that only the waking world can provide.

“Me neither,” El says as her hand starts tracing patterns on his chest, her touch thrilling through the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t understand how any of this is really happening, but I hope it never stops.”

Mike breathes out a laugh. “I don’t know how we’re going to explain this to, well, _anyone.”_

A giggle escapes El and the exhale of her breath brushes sweetly against the tender skin of his throat. “Maybe we just don’t. We don’t owe anyone an explanation of something so private. It can be just for you and me.”

“And screw everyone else?” Mike asks, smiling. His heart feels full to the point of bursting, warmth suffusing in every cubic inch of his body. If he could be just like this for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man.

“Yeah, exactly,” El says with another giggle, pushing up onto her elbow so she can smile down at him. “Our dreams are our own. After all, we deserve to keep some things to ourselves.”

And, as Mike pulls her towards him, needing to kiss her more than he needs air, finger sliding into her hair to anchor himself to her, he finds he can’t argue with that at all.

* * *

  
They talk well into the night. 10pm passes, then midnight, then 1am, 2am. And, still, they keep going.

El knows what’s going on and she knows Mike knows it, too: neither of them want this night to end.

“It’s getting late,” Mike says, voice raspy from all the talking they’ve been doing. They’re still on the couch, only they’re laying on their sides, facing each other. Some of the talking has given way to kissing – gentle, sweet, lingering kisses that make El’s skin buzz in the best way possible and make her feel lighter than air – and it’s been the most magical night of her entire life.

El curls her arm harder against where it’s wrapped against the upper slope of his waist. “Don’t go.” Her breath hitches dangerously in her chest at the thought of him leaving. “Stay here, with me.”

Mike breathes out a near-silent laugh. “Couch is a little small for the two of us.”

El smiles at him. “My bed’s not, though.” 

“My, my, aren’t we being forward?” Mike says with a teasing grin.

El ignores the way her face heats up and meets his gaze head on. “If it’ll get you to stay, then yes.”

“No need,” Mike says, still chuckling. “You couldn’t get me to leave for anything.”

“Good,” El says, smiling with relief. Knowing that something better is just ahead of her, El doesn’t feel so reluctant to move and she sits up, pushing herself onto her feet. “Shall we?” she asks as she holds out her hand while Mike sits up behind her.

He grins up at her, delirious with the kind of happy exhaustion that doesn’t feel real, but so, so is. “We shall.”

There’s a little bit of shyness, but not much, as they get ready for bed. Though they’ve seen each other naked in their dreams, they avert their eyes out here in the real world as they undress, Mike stripping down to just his boxers while El changes into her usual sleep shorts and tank top. The mundanity of life butts in as they take turns in the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their face, the other lingering out in the hallway to keep each other in earshot, not wanting to lose any sense of where the other is.

And, even when they finally crawl into El’s full-sized bed, all the lights turned out except for the thin sliver of light from the streetlights outside, they fight against closing their eyes.

“I don’t want to fall asleep,” Mike admits, murmuring the words as he holds her close. The warmth of his arm bleeds into her through the thin fabric of her tank top and it makes El feel all warm and tingly in the best way possible.

“I know,” she says, hand snaking up between them so she can cup his cheek in her palm. “I’m scared if I fall asleep, you won’t be here when I wake up.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his tired face. “What if I promise to be here if you do, too?” Mike asks, not even bothering to hide the desperation that threads through the glib words.

El lets out a soft giggle that is suspiciously close to a sob. “Ok, yeah, sounds good.”

Mike leans over and kisses her, then, his mouth soft against hers as his hand caresses the small of her back through her shirt. El leans into the kiss, pulling him further into her like she wants to wrap herself around him and never let go. This is everything she’s ever wanted in her entire life and she’s not about to restrain herself now.

The kiss comes to a slow end, both of them weighed down by exhaustion. It’s been a roller coaster of a day in a way that El is never going to be able to explain to anyone other than the man laying next to her. But that’s ok. She doesn’t need anyone else to understand but him. The rest of the world isn’t important when it comes to this.

“El?” There’s a hint of a plea in the way Mike says her name that has El swallowing thickly, emotion cresting inside of her. God, she loves the way he says her name – it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

El opens her eyes and looks over at him, gaze imploring. “Yeah?”

Mike licks his lips and lets out a shuddering breath. “I love you.”

And, oh, there are the tears. They burn at the corners of her eyes and gather in a lump in her throat and she’s amazed she manages to keep from sobbing outright. Never mind what she thought before – _this_ is the most beautiful sound in the world, the sound of him telling her he loves her. She lets out a wet laugh, sniffing a little. “I love you, too.” She scoots closer to him so she can press her forehead against his as they lay on the pillows. “If you’re not here in the morning, I’m going to be so angry.”

It’s Mike’s turn to laugh, the sound just as tear-logged as hers. “I don’t ever want to be anywhere else other than right here with you for the rest of our lives.”

“Ok, good. I’m going to hold you to that,” El says as she settles in, breathing deeply of him, filling her lungs with the subtle woodsy scent of his shampoo and just the essence of _Mike._

Mike brushes a soft kiss against her lips, quick and fleeting. “As long as you let me stay, you can do whatever you want.”

They finally close their eyes after that, unable to keep them open any longer. They hold each other close as they fall asleep, unwilling to let go. That night, for the first time in nearly 10 years, they don’t dream – there’s no need, after all, now that they’ve found each other.

And in the morning, when the sun peeks up over the tops of the buildings and shines into El’s bedroom window, she wakes and opens her eyes to see that Mike’s still here, still with her. _It wasn’t a dream, it was **real** , _ she thinks with a thick gasp that sticks in her throat.

Mike wakes up not long after she does, dark eyes blearily searching with just the barest beginnings of panic until he notices that she’s laying next to him. “You kept your promise,” he says with a sleep-ragged voice, arm curling tight around her beneath the covers as he sags with relief.

El easily goes into his embrace and lets her hand come up to smooth his hair away from his face, thick midnight strands having gone wild while they slept. “So did you.”

Mike smiles, still sleepy, leaning in to kiss her, morning breath be damned. “Yeah, I did,” he whispers before his mouth captures hers in a kiss that’s _full_ of promises. El knows, as she kisses him back with the same fervor and passion poured into how her lips glide against his, that these are the kinds of promises she’ll always make to him, too.

They might never know how all this happened, might never know how they could have dreamed about each other with such vibrant clarity as they grew up and grew together. But, as they lay there, trading soft kisses and getting gently lost in the love they built together away from the rest of the world, they know it ultimately doesn’t matter. 

What _does_ matter is that, against all odds, they found each other and discovered that, sometimes, dreams _do_ come true.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, there's almost nothing more satisfying than typing the words "The End". 
> 
> I hope this didn't disappoint! This was probably one of the most difficult endings I've ever had to write because I don't actually have an explanation for _why_ Mike and El share dreams other than "because they do". So I hope this all came together in a way that feels satisfying without over-doing it.
> 
> And as for what comes next? Most likely a series of one-shots that revolve around the time before, during, and after S3. So, until then, thank you again for all your support and I'll catch y'all on the flip side!


End file.
